


Seeing Blind

by thestarwar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Finn Skywalker, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarwar/pseuds/thestarwar
Summary: Poe Dameron: a famous musician with an image problem.Enter Finn, hired to fool the public into believing Poe has a boyfriend.(the fake dating au)





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters.
> 
> Notes: Past abuse is mentioned in this story, but no depictions of it ocurring exist.
> 
> The story's title is inspired by Niall Horan's "Seeing Blind." The header is from Richard Siken's poem "Little Beast."

"What would you like? I'd like my money's worth.

Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this--

swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood

on the first four knuckles.

We pull our boots on with both our hands

but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do

is stand on the curb and say _Sorry_

_about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine._

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time." -Richard Siken, "Little Beast."

* * *

 

For the record, this had been entirely Rey's idea.

Finn pulled into a winding driveway in his ancient Trans Am, fingering a small wad of paper in his hands with an address scrawled on it. It matched the numbers on the mailbox: 2187. The hilltop villa seemed to stare down at him, judging both him and his beater car as though the piece of architecture knew he didn't belong.

He shook his head and drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. It was just a job interview… in a home that cost more money than Finn could even fathom existed.

_“It's a six-figure salary,” Rey said._

_He was sitting on the sofa in their apartment, a worn book in his hands (“_ Wuthering Heights _is trash,” Rey had told him when he first picked it up, but he had ignored her. In Rey's opinion, anything that wasn't an operating manual was deemed trash)._

_“And it offers living arrangements.” She perched on the armrest, hovering over Finn._

_Finn didn't look up from his page. “You just want me to move out.”_

_“That's not true. Jess and I don't mind you staying here. But I know you want to save up for school, and when Jess heard about the job from Paige…. I think it’s a great opportunity.”_

_“Why don't you apply? Like you said, it's a six-figure salary.” But Finn knew he was beating a dead horse. Rey didn't care about salaries. She liked her position at her dad's auto repair shop._

_“It's not really my type of job.”_

_Finally, Finn closed his book and stared up at her. “What is the job? You still haven't told me.”_

_Rey shrugged. “All Paige said to Jess was that she needed to find a single, reasonably attractive male—”_

_Finn smirked. “You think I'm reasonably attractive, Solo?”_

_Rey thwacked his shoulder, successfully wiping away Finn's smirk._

_“Wait. Rey, you're not signing me up for… porn or anything, right?”_

_“Paige said it was completely respectable. She wouldn't say anything else, and if you don't take the offer for the interview, she's going to offer it elsewhere.”_

_“Alright, alright!” Finn held his hands up in surrender._

_“I'll take the interview.”_

_At that moment, Jessika strode out of the room she shared with Rey in a pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt. “Better pucker up, pretty boy.”_

_“Jess,” groaned Rey, “Paige said it_ wasn't _porn.”_

_Finn settled back into the couch again, resuming the place in his book._

_All the signs in the text told Finn that Heathcliff was unstable, monstrous, and downright toxic. And yet… Catherine loved him either in spite of his flaws or, perhaps, because of them. Finn frowned. Did love like that actually exist? Or had love been more passionate in a past century? Because Finn couldn't think of ever feeling that passionate about someone. Loving someone unconditionally. Loving someone wholeheartedly and unreserved. Loving someone enough to utter,_ “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same _.”_

_Looking back at his own short list of flings, Finn thought Rey had a point when she called the book trash and romantic drivel. Finn would never even entertain the prospects of soulmates the way Catherine Earnshaw did. No explanation made sense to Finn. Not a single philosopher had yet persuaded him that there was something in the universe that pulled you to another person: your supposed better half. Life was chaos. Why would love be an exception?_

_Pulling himself from his thoughts, Finn refocused on the paragraph he had been reading:_

“Be with me always, take any form, drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you. Oh, God! It is unutterable. I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”

_Maybe Rey was right…. Maybe this was romantic trash_ ….

Finn clambered out of his car and made his way to the front door. Along the porch there were rose bushes planted and ivy crawled its way up the side of the house. Taking a deep breath, Finn rang the doorbell.

A tall woman with long black hair answered the door. She grinned. “You must be Finn.”

“You must be Paige.”

She led him into the foyer of the house, and Finn tried to keep from gaping at how lavish everything was. The house had an open floor plan; from the foyer, Finn could see the living room, dining room, and kitchen. One entire side of the house was nothing but towering glass windows and a sliding door that opened to veranda and swimming pool. A spiral staircase led to the upper levels.

While Finn wandered into the living room, he could feel Paige's eyes on him. He tried to ignore her, but she seemed to be making mental measurements and even muttered to herself, “You'll be perfect.”

Finn pretended not to hear.

Paige crossed over to the backdoor and slid it open, poking her head out. For such a dainty woman, Finn was surprised to hear her almost-threatening shout,

“If you want to have any say in this, you'll stop pouting and get in here.”

She motioned for Finn to join her on one of the black leather couches.

He acquiesced and cleared his throat. “So, uh… what exactly is this job?”

“Well, we've had a bit of an image issue lately. So if you accept the position, it will mostly be publicity work: smiling for the cameras, being seen around town together…. Something to soften up his image.”

Finn's lips formed the word “who,” but he never quite got it out. Because “who” walked in through the backdoor, and Finn momentarily forgot how to breathe.

He skulked into the house, dripping wet from the swimming pool. A fluffy white towel was wrapped around his waist, low enough for Finn to see the prominent v of his hips. Droplets of water ran down his chest and his stomach, slowly dripping to where Finn could see a dark trail of hair beneath his navel. Quickly, and hoping against all odds that he wasn't blushing, Finn tore his gaze to the man's face. This was probably his boss. He couldn't be caught ogling him!

But his face afforded Finn no better luck. He was fucking gorgeous. His dark hair curled, unkempt, on his head. He had high cheekbones, dark patches of stubble along his jaw, and pouting lips that Finn could only label as obscene. Poets crafted stanzas about this kind of beauty.

Dripping wet, the man collapsed in the leather armchair.

“Finn, this is Poe Dameron.”

“Nice to meet you.” Finn held out his hand. Poe stared at it, but made no move to reciprocate the handshake. Instead, he reached over to the coffee table and brandished a pack of smokes and a lighter. He took a drag from it.

Paige's smile was forced. “Poe's just sulking—”

“Because management is making this into something it's not!”

“Poe, you punched a man—”

“—he was a literal Nazi, Paige—”

“—in the face,” she finished firmly. “You have an album release and then a tour, which aren't going to sell well with some of your recent behaviors: the fights and the drinking.”

Poe scowled around the cigarette, “I don't need a babysitter.”

“Good,” said Paige, “because I'm not hiring you one. I'm hiring you a boyfriend.”

“What?” Finn's mind reeled. Album releases? Publicity? Boyfriend?

Paige turned to him quickly. “It's tasteful, I promise. Like I said, all you would have to do is be seen around Poe in public from time to time. Help soften his image. Create a narrative of a lovestruck musician settling down for the time being. Once all the scandals disappear, we can fade you out of the narrative, fake a mutual breakup, and you can be on your way.”

Finn stared dumbly. He was sitting in the villa of a famous musician being propositioned to be his fake boyfriend. How much of this had Rey known?

Paige was still talking to Finn, “…and of course all your living expenses will be paid, provided you temporarily move in here. Oh! And sign some contracts.”

“Contracts?”

“Just a formality. That you won't leak any of this to the press. That you agree to the salary.”

Finn gaped.

Paige nodded at his confusion and turned to Poe. “So what do you think of Finn?”

Poe's eyes studied Finn. They were dark and observant and Finn felt as though the other man were staring through him and unearthing from his bones all his secrets. He shifted uncomfortably and had half the mind to run out the door, but the rational part of him tamped away that impulse. He needed the money to start school. Having just been fired from the bookstore he worked at, Finn knew he would need the money for his car insurance too.

He could do this. He’d had dates and one-night stands and was an expert on remaining unattached.

Poe nodded. “He'll do.”

Standing up, Poe ran a hand through his locks and stalked away back out to the swimming pool, smoke trailing after him, and Finn let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

* * *

  
“Finn, I swear I didn't know,” Rey said.

After signing the contracts, Finn had driven home, gripping the steering wheel tight. Part of him didn't know why he had signed the contracts, but he thought of his future and going to school. He would be able to pursue that English degree and maybe become a teacher. Finn liked the thought of inspiring others and enacting change. This job would let him do that.

“It's fine,” Finn insisted, but he paced around the nonetheless. Tomorrow, he would move into Poe's villa. Some photographers would take some pictures and leak them to the public.

“Who _is_ your new boyfriend?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Poe. Poe Dameron.”

Immediately, Rey was clicking away on the laptop. The pencil she had been idly chewing on lay forgotten on her lap. “Here he is. Come, check out your lover boy.”

Finn groaned, but stopped pacing around the apartment and sat beside Rey. She had pulled up a video on YouTube of an acoustic set and pressed play.

Poe was sitting on a chair, an acoustic guitar perched in his lap. His hair was thick and curly on his head. Instead of the stubble Finn had seen earlier, Poe was sporting a thick beard. He leaned into the microphone, a soft smile playing on his lips, “If its not new and it never gets old, it must be a folk song.”

He strummed the guitar, and his voice filled their apartment:

_“If I had wings like Noah's dove_  
_I'd fly up the river to the one I love_  
_Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well_

_Early one morning, drizzlin' rain_  
_And in my heart I felt an achin' pain_  
_Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well.”_

He had a nice voice, Finn realized, watching the clip with Rey. It was almost calming to listen to. There was a passion in it that exposed itself when he crooned, “fare thee well” to the audience. His voice washed over Finn like a tidal wave.

Rey was in awe. “Finn, if you don't date him, I might. And Jessika would make headlines for being the one who murdered Poe Dameron.”

“I told you, I took the job, but it's not real relationship, Rey. It's all smoke and mirrors.” The video ended, and Finn resisted the itching feeling to press replay.

Finn thought of all the literary relationships he read about. Had he been a romantic guy, he would've flirted with the idea that he and Poe were taking a page from Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet's book—what with Poe's sulky attitude. But they weren't characters from a Regency romance or even two people destined to be together. This was a job. Besides, Finn didn't have time for a relationship, and Poe didn't seem to want one.

After the video, Rey clicked away at the keys to bring up recent headlines involving Poe Dameron, and Finn could see why his publicist had insisted Poe pretend to settle down. Older articles chronicled one-night stands while more recent ones discussed Poe's profligacy for drinking. The most recent articles showed a picture of Poe's fist connecting with a ginger man's face. Known as Hux, the man had been quoting _Mein Kampf_ in public and making remarks hailing the concept of white supremacy. And Poe had punched him. Finn didn't know whether to be impressed or not.

Sexual conquests, drinking marathons, and a tendency for violence…. What had Finn signed up for?

Rey looked over at him. “I'm sure most of it has been exaggerated. The public likes a bad boy.”

“Well they’re not gonna like me,” muttered Finn, “I have to tame him.”

“Only when the cameras are around.” Rey closed the laptop and set it on the coffee table. “Maybe I _should_ have found you a job in the porn industry.”

Finn laughed. He realized with a pang in his chest that he would miss Rey and Jessika when he moved in with Poe. This was home for Finn.

“It's only for nine months,” said Rey. She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

Nine months. Finn could do that. He'd never been in a relationship that lasted longer than two months, but he could do this. After all, it wasn't real, and that was a relief.

Real love hurt. Finn was a testament to that.

 


	2. Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't be nervous. All we're doing today is taking some candid shots. I'll have the photographers across the street taking pictures of you getting out of your car, Poe greeting you with a hug, and the two of you holding hands as you walk back into the house.”
> 
> Finn's mouth felt dry. “Sounds simple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your amazing feedback. Here are eight pages of Finn and Poe interacting as a thank you!

Growing up in the foster system had taught Finn to love with reserve and without attachment. Whenever a new family fostered him, he would make room in his heart for them. It never lasted long, and Finn's heart was eventually filled to the brim with love for people who didn't have room in their hearts for him.

As he grew older, he learned to guard his heart closer and only ever give it to one person at a time.

That worked, too… for a time. Finn would search for teenage love instead of the love and acceptance from a family he was never going to get. But Finn didn't fall in love: he crashed into love. He threw himself violently into love. He clung to what affection he could get. And he put up with things he shouldn't have just to receive any affection at all.

The first time one of his boyfriends hit him, Finn gathered him in his arms and let him whisper “I'm sorry,” and “I'll never hurt you again.” He let himself be kissed and apologized to and was stupid enough to believe the whispered lies.

His teenage years and early adulthood were spent letting himself be hit and degraded just so he didn't have to rearrange his heart again. He was so sick of cracking it open to let people slip out. How many times could you put back together a broken heart?

Then he met Rey. Rey, who had room in her heart for Finn. Rey, who made Finn laugh and never hurt him. Rey, who would wipe blood from Finn's face and hold him and tell him he deserved better. After a while, Finn started to believe Rey. He watched the way her relationship with Jessika developed, and it looked so natural and affectionate. Finn wanted that.

When he ended up in the hospital with broken ribs and a deep gash along his shoulder, he told himself he was done. He wasn't rearranging room in his heart for anyone. He had Rey and Jessika and his adoptive father Luke (who really did care about him, but often disappeared on his various travels around the world). That was enough.

Nowadays, his dates were short dinners or one night stands. There were never second dates.

* * *

 

Finn maneuvered his car into the driveway and parked it. His heart beat erratically against his chest. He took a deep breath. No one was there yet. No Paige. No photographers. His job hadn't even started, and he was already struggling to breathe.

Grabbing the duffel bag full of his stuff, he climbed out of his car and made his way to the front door. As Finn rang the doorbell, a small sticker in the corner of the door's window caught his eye:

CAUTION: VIOLENT DOG.

Great. It was going to be a race to see what killed him first: his anxiety or a ferocious dog. Why hadn't Paige mentioned that to him during the contract signing? Had Finn signed away Poe's liability if his dog attacked him?

The door opened, and Poe stood there. This time he had clothes on: a baggy pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Poe didn't look angry today. Instead, judging from the shadows under his eyes, he just seemed tired.

He leaned against the doorframe. “Hey there, buddy.”

His voice was soft and raspy with sleep. Finn was taken aback. This must be Poe Dameron when publicists weren't around or reporters. To Finn, he seemed small and fragile.

Finn smiled. “Do you call all your boyfriends ‘buddy?’”

Poe stared at him, and a smile spread on his face. His eyes crinkled. “Only the ones I pay.” He moved aside and ushered Finn in. “You hungry? I can make you some breakfast.”

“Oh, no.” Finn shook his head, but trailed after Poe into the kitchen. “I don't want to be a bother.”

“Believe me, pal,” Poe said rooting through the cupboards and pulling out two bowls and a box of cereal. “It's no bother.”

“Well, in that case….” Finn set his duffel bag on the ground and slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Guess the hiring process left out that I’ll be dating a famous chef.”

Poe laughed before adopting the accent of a French restauranteur and sliding the bowl of cereal over to him. “Monsieur Finn, today I have prepared for you a dish of oats, lightly coated with sugar, and submerged in a milk sauce.”

Finn choked. “A milk sauce?”

Poe shrugged. “What else was I supposed to call it? Tit water?”

“A lactation creation,” Finn deadpanned, “Come on, you're the songwriter. Shouldn't you know how to rhyme?”

Poe rolled his eyes, but there were still crinkles near them and a smile on his lips. “Well, what do you do for a living, hot shot?”

“Besides dating musicians? I want to get an English degree. I want to teach.”

“You're a better man than I am, Finn.”

“I doubt that. I'm sure the press exaggerates some of that shit.”

Poe's spoon froze on its way to his mouth. He levelled a gaze at Finn. It felt like the day before when Poe had stared at him. It was as if the other man could see right through him. Finn hated how transparent he felt. It was a weakness that had always been exploited in his relationships.

“You read up on that, huh?” Poe's spoon clattered back into the bowl, and he scratched his jaw again.

“Sorry. I was—it was my frien—” He hadn't even made it an hour, and he was already going to be fired.

Poe ignored him. “I want you to know I'm not the asshole everyone makes me out to be. So… if you read anything and want to ask me about it, feel free. I promise I'll give you nothing but honesty.”

Finn set his own spoon down, taken aback. “You don't have to promise me that. You don't owe me anything, Poe. I probably shouldn't have read all that shit anyways.”

“You were curious. I don't blame you considering what an ass I was yesterday.” Poe resumed eating his cereal before looking over and smirking at Finn, “Anything else you looked up about me?”

Finn shook his head.

“Wanna know what the top three Internet searches are about me?” Poe didn't wait for an answer. “Is Poe Dameron single? Is Poe Dameron gay? And, my favorite: how big is Poe Dameron's dick?” Finn choked on his cereal. “So which one did you look up?"

Poe's eyes were burning into him like the sun.

Finn matched his gaze. “I looked up that last one. Was a disappointing number.”

Poe burst out into laughter, slapping the counter. Something inside Finn's chest swelled at the way Poe's entire face seemed to glow. How his body shook when he laughed and his curls bounced on his head.

They finished their breakfast, and Finn felt much better about the entire job. Poe was easygoing when he wasn't mad at his management or sulking around his house. He laughed at Finn's jokes, and he made Finn laugh. What had he been so nervous for?

“Grab your stuff. I'll give you the tour and show you your room.”

Finn followed Poe up the spiral stairs to the second level. It was a long hallway lined with doors. He pointed at the various ones as they walked by. There was the bathroom, Poe's room, Poe's recording room, a guest bedroom, and at the end of the hall was Finn's bedroom. Inside was a king-sized bed covered in silk sheets and an abundance of pillows. There was an old antique chest at the bottom of the bed. In the corner was a chestnut wardrobe—its polished wood matching both the trunk and the headboard on the bed.

Finn had just set his duffel bag on the bed when he heard a pattering of paws down the hallway.  
He felt the color drain from his face. He had forgotten the sign on the door: the vicious dog.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to stay calm. Poe wouldn't let his dog attack him, right? Surely it was trained.

Into Finn's room bounded a small white and ginger corgi. Its tiny tail wagged exuberantly, and its tongue hung from its mouth. Looking up at Poe, the dog barked.

Poe crouched down to pick the corgi up, beaming as he did. “Finn, this is BB-8.”

“I, uh—” Finn wanted to laugh. He reached out to pet BB-8. The dog licked his hand in return. “Was expecting a mastiff or a Great Dane.”

Poe's brows knitted together for a second. He chuckled. “Oh! The sticker on the door. Yeah, I put that on there to keep people away from my house. Between avid fans and sneaky reporters, it's hard to find any peace. But I promise you, the only dog here is BB-8, and the only thing he attacks are my slippers.”

As Poe was setting BB-8 back down, the doorbell rang. Finn was reminded why he was here. It wasn't to hang and laugh with Poe. It wasn't to pet Poe's corgi. It was to convince the public eye that Poe Dameron was settling down into the quiet life with his new boyfriend.

“Showtime,” muttered Poe, and Finn trailed after him

Poe's publicist, Paige Tico, stood on the porch with a team of three photographers. Upon seeing Finn, she smiled and pulled him into a hug, saying how glad she was he had accepted the job. “Don't be nervous. All we're doing today is taking some candid shots. I'll have the photographers across the street taking pictures of you getting out of your car, Poe greeting you with a hug, and the two of you holding hands as you walk back into the house.”

Finn's mouth felt dry. “Sounds simple.”

Paige looked over to Poe. “You should change.”

He frowned. “What's wrong with my outfit?”

“Poe, your shirt says ‘SAVE A PLANE, RIDE A PILOT.’”

“What?! It's a very economic message!” insisted Poe.

When Paige's glare lingered, Poe groaned in frustration and stalked back into the house.

“How do I look?” Finn hadn't dressed up for this. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple long-sleeved black shirt.

“You look fine.”

Paige instructed the photographers where she wanted them across the street and ushered Finn into his car. They would begin once Poe finished changing his clothes. “Don't be nervous. And don't look at the cameras. Keep your movements long and drawn out, so we can get as many shots as we need.”

Finn nodded and closed the car door, keeping his eyes trained on the front door, waiting with baited breath for Poe to walk outside. Waiting for his cue.

After agonizingly long seconds, the front door opened and Poe stepped out. He was wearing tight black jeans and a button-down shirt. A dark brown leather jacket hung from his shoulders. Finn stepped out of the car. His heart hammered in his chest. He took a breath and counted the strides it took for Poe to reach him.

One… Poe was grinning at him.

Two… His eyes were lit up. They were the color of chestnuts.

Three… Poe opened his arms and embraced Finn, one arm tight around his waist and the other around his neck. Poe leaned in, and his breath tickled Finn's neck.

“Is this okay?” murmured Poe against his skin.

Finn made a noise of affirmation in the back of his throat and hugged Poe back, gripping him just as tight. Poe smelled intoxicating, a mixture of leather and spice and musky cologne.

Poe pulled away. It was a warm autumn day around them, but Finn suddenly felt cold without Poe pressed up against him. He felt Poe's hand on his, grabbing it and lacing their fingers together. Finn marveled at how small they were. How dainty Poe's hand felt even with the rough callouses along his fingers from playing guitar. Poe smiled and squeezed Finn's hand gently. He turned around and led Finn back into the house. Finn focused on Poe's back, afraid he would glance over at the cameras.

The door closed behind them and just like that, it was over. Paige came in the house, congratulating him. The photographers joined them, and they stood around, picking out a handful of photos to publish. Finn was surprised at how natural the photos looked. He had been afraid the photographs would capture the tension and anxiety he had felt, but the hug and the handholding looked casual… as though Finn and Poe had been doing this their whole life.

Poe gave him a congratulatory clap on the back. “You did good, buddy.”

Finn smiled. He felt dizzy. He had done it. He could do this. Poe was comforting to be around, and interacting with him was easy for Finn. It wasn't like his previous relationships where Finn gave and gave until he had nothing left to give.

 _But it's not a relationship_ , Finn reminded himself firmly.

After everything settled, and the photographers left, Paige informed Poe he had to go into the studio. There was a deadline to meet for the upcoming album.

Poe turned to Finn, his eyes apologetic. “Sorry to leave like this. Feel free to have the run of the house. Mi casa es su casa, as they say.”

“I'll be fine. BB-8 can keep me company.”

Poe chuckled as the corgi waddled over to them. “You better not be replacing me, BB-8.”

The dog yipped in response.

Poe left, apologizing profusely to Finn. Finn waved him off. He hadn't expected them to be able to hang out much away from the cameras anyways. Poe had a busy schedule, and Finn, well, he decided he would need to find hobbies besides reading to keep him occupied. Maybe he'd start going to the gym again or he'd let Rey teach him how to fix up the old Trans Am.

Yawning and running on only four hours of sleep, Finn retired to his room. He didn't bother unpacking, though. Life in the foster system taught him to never unpack. It was always a waste of time. Homes were always temporary.

Curling up in bed with his phone, he opened up YouTube and found himself typing in “POE DAMERON MUSIC.”

Not knowing where to start, he clicked the first result: a track called “Never Had.” The acoustic guitar strummed, and Poe's soft, melodic voice filled the room. Finn's eyelids felt heavy, and he surrendered to sleep.

He dreamt of a beautiful boy with black curls and a tinkling laugh. Of eyes the color of copper against honey and the soft earth after a rain. He also dreamt of bruises on his skin, of the iron taste of blood, and of his voice, small and lost, begging that beautiful boy to stay.

His eyes fluttered open hours later, but he didn't have the strength to force himself awake properly. Instead, he lay back down, hardly registering the new weight of a blanket that someone had thrown over him.

* * *

 

By the time Finn woke up from his nap, it was dusk, and the pictures of him and Poe had circulated throughout the Internet. His phone had blown up with messages and calls and social media notifications.

He groaned. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so easy.

The first person he called back was Rey.

Even through the phone, Finn could hear the smile in her voice. “You two make a cute couple,” she cooed.

Finn rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Dare I ask what the Internet is saying about me?”

“’Poe Dameron Leads Mystery Man into His House…and into His Bed?’” Rey began listing off the headlines, laughing. “’Heartthrob Poe Dameron Sets His Heart on New Boyfriend.’ Oh this one's endearing and very heterosexual: ‘Poe Dameron and Close Friend Comfortable Holding Hands.’”

Finn laughed, “And what about the comments? People eating this shit up?”

“Sure looks that way. Young girls are sobbing because you stole their man. Others are ripping into Poe's music. Sorry, Finn, there's some racial slurs here too. Some homophobic comments— _of course_ they quoted Leviticus. Lots of thirst comments.”

“Thirst comments?”

“Fawning over you and Poe,” rambled Rey, “How you'd make beautiful babies, how DameronSlut45 would watch your sex tape, and BeckyS is requesting a threesome.”

“Didn't need to know that.”

“Neither did I, but get used to it, Finn. You're famous now.”

“ _Associated_ with a famous man,” corrected Finn, “In nine months, I can fade into the background again.”

“Are we on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

They negotiated a time and location, and Finn hung up. He had one more call to return: his adoptive father.

Luke Skywalker had adopted him the summer when Finn went into ninth grade. At the time, he was a tenured professor for the local university, and he talked to Finn like he mattered and listened to him. He asked Finn questions about himself. He opened his personal library up to Finn, encouraged him to read, gave him recommendations, and then asked Finn what he thought of the books. In his life, no one had ever asked Finn for his opinion on anything. But Luke did. Luke was kind and funny, but he was also patient with Finn while he adjusted to life outside the foster system. He didn't pry when Finn came home from a date sobbing. Instead, he held him and let Finn cry into his chest.

“Finally called back. Hope you’re not too famous for your old man now?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Dad, it's not like that.”

When Luke adopted Finn, he had told him he understood if Finn did not want to call him “dad.” But Finn had never been able to use the word before, and he loved the way it sounded.

“I’m over in Ireland for two weeks, and suddenly I see my son plastered across the tabloids. I didn't even know you were dating again.”

“It's complicated.”

“I'd say. How long has this been going on? The articles say you've already moved in with him?”

“You can't believe everything you read.” Finn hated lying to Luke, but it was bad enough that Rey and Jessika knew. He couldn't risk Luke letting the secret slip and putting Finn in a position to get sued.

“Did you?”

“…yes.”

“When I come home, I'm meeting him.” It wasn't a question.

“When are you coming home?”

“In another week, kid. I'm flying out to England today. Wanted to take a tour of Yorkshire.”

“Isn't that where _Wuthering Heights_ takes place?” asked Finn.

“You're reading it finally! What are your thoughts?” Just like that, Luke slipped into professor mode. To Finn, it was just as endearing as dad mode.

“It's okay. Bit too mushy with all the ‘soulmates bullshit,’ if you ask me.”

Luke was incredulous. “Isn't that a bit of a cynical outlook for someone in a new relationship?”  
Finn chuckled. He heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Dad, I have to go. Poe is home.”

Before he hung up, he heard Luke request an email of his complete thoughts on the book. The man was on vacation, and he wanted Finn to write him an essay. He was ridiculous.

Finn looked up. Poe was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You hungry?” he asked, “I ordered pizza.”

“How was the studio?” Finn asked, following Poe downstairs.

“It wasn't too good. Not real productive today.”

“Why not?”

Poe shrugged, mumbling, “Distracted, I guess.”

Finn joined Poe at the kitchen island and glanced at the clock on the stove. It was 7:00. “You had a long day in the studio.”

“What? No, I’ve been home for a while. I went in to check on you, but you were passed out. Looked like you needed the sleep.”

“Look who's talking. You have bags under your eyes!”

“Excuse you,” scoffed Poe dramatically, “My bags are designer.”

Finn laughed.

Just like that, they slipped into the same comfort from that morning. This was easy to Finn. Conversation with Poe flowed naturally. The other man was an open book for Finn. Whenever he asked a question, Poe answered it, having reasoned that he would rather Finn hear the answer from him than from some obscure forum on the Internet that catalogued everything from Poe's favorite color to his first living memory.

Poe Dameron was more than a talented musician. He was the son of a commercial airline pilot and a soldier. His mother, who had been a pilot, died from cancer when he was young, and his father passed away a few years prior from heart complications. It reminded Finn of how dangerous an organ the heart was. It could easily burst under pressure and kill you. But the morbidity of the conversation didn't last long. Poe rambled on about how his mother taught him the guitar, his top five favorite bands, what his time in high school was like, and some of the embarrassing dates he'd had.

Finn laughed with him and found himself sharing as well. He told Poe how he grew up in the foster system, how he had felt when he was finally adopted, about his friends Rey and Jessika, and his favorite books.

Before either of them knew, it was nearing midnight, and Poe was yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You should get to bed.”

“Wouldn't the public want to know I have a boyfriend keen on keeping me up all night?” he smirked.

Finn stood up and nudged Poe from his own seat. “The public isn't here.”

Scratching his jaw and running a hand through his hair, mussing it up, Poe allowed Finn to grab his arm and guide him up the stairs and to his room.

“G'night, Finn,” Poe mumbled.

“Sleep well, Poe.” Finn walked down the hall to his own room. He felt giddy. Never before had he enjoyed a job the way he was now. It had been quite a blessing that the bookstore fired him.


	3. Smooth Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside, Poe was floating on a raft in the pool. BB-8 was in his lap, and in his hand, was a martini glass filled with some red drink; a miniature umbrella sat in the glass. There were sunglasses on his face, and he was wearing ridiculously bright orange swim trunks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who commented!
> 
> I highly recommend watching Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" music video before reading this chapter. I also recommend listening to Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" and "The Way You Make Me Feel" as well as Prince's "Little Red Corvette."
> 
> Also, feel free to follow me or message me on tumblr at huttslut.tumblr.com

Maz's Café was a hidden gem in the city of Los Angeles. Located on Takodana Street, the café was situated two blocks away from Rey's apartment, which always made it a convenient place to dine. At noon, Finn met Rey, sliding into their usual booth in the corner. She had his regular order of a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin waiting for him while she picked apart her own muffin. Beside the muffin was a half-finished custard-filled donut. Chocolate stained Rey's fingers, but she blatantly ignored the pile of napkins on the table.

“I forgot how shitty traffic was,” Finn said. When he lived with Rey, he was within walking distance to most places. Living on the outskirts of downtown with Poe now made city traffic an inconvenience he would have to suffer through again.

“Now that you're a kept boy,” teased Rey around a mouthful of muffin.

Finn rolled his eyes. Rey was always a nightmare to take out to eat. She was either oblivious to dining etiquette or made it her life's mission not to acknowledge its existence. Rey rarely used silverware, chewed with her mouth open, talked with food in her mouth, and would chew on things that weren't edible such as balled-up straw wrappers or the straws themselves. Meanwhile, Finn had learned early on that foster families would not tolerate slovenly or obnoxious behaviors.

“I'm not kept. I come and go as I please.”

“Are you still game for movie night with the gang at my place?” asked Rey. “Or are you too famous for the likes of us?”

The gang consisted of Finn, Rey, Jessika, Snap, and Karé. Every weekend they tried to organize a movie night. There were always snacks and drinking involved as well as drunken shenanigans. Snap would pass out, and they would doodle on his face. Or Jess would call the local pizza place, desperately trying to order a boneless pizza.

“Stop it. You know I would never miss movie night.” Finn didn't need to add that he would never tire of them as friends. Finn already felt indebted to Rey and Jessika for helping him find his new job. He would have to get them a gift, he decided. 

Before she left with the photographers, Paige had pressed a small wad of cash into his hand and informed him the rest of his first month's salary would be deposited directly into his bank account. While Finn was saving up for school, he also knew he now had more money than he knew what to do with. Buying Rey and Jess a “thank you” present was the least he could do.

They finished their muffins while idly discussing how Rey's job was going and how her folks were doing. Finn told Rey about his phone conversation with Luke, and she giggled maniacally at his father’s reaction to him dating a celebrity.

“I'd like to meet him,” said Rey finally.

“Not you too,” groaned Finn. “You know it's just a job. I mean, he is basically my boss.”

“So?” Rey's face hardened. “I need to make sure he'll treat you well.”

“He is m—”

“Listen to me, Finn. I have seen person after person come into your life and treat you like shit. I am not letting another. You're my best fucking friend, and I am going to protect you. I don't care if it's your boss or a guy you sat next to in the movie theater. If they hurt you or lay a finger on you, I will fight for you.”

Finn was stunned. He stared down at the table where Rey had grabbed his hand and mumbled, “I can protect myself, y'know.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know. But that's the good thing about having people that love you. You don't have to do it all alone. Sometimes, I can be strong for you. For the both of us.”

“Thanks, Rey,” whispered Finn.

She released his hand and leaned back in her chair, but she caught Finn smirking at her. “What?”

“You've gone soft, Solo,” he snickered.

Rolling her eyes, Rey tossed a balled-up napkin at his face, but she also dissolved into giggles. Rey's laughter was contagious, and the dimples on her face endearing. Sitting in the corner of the café with her, Finn thought the two of them could take on the world together if they ever had to. She had promised to protect him, but Finn had also made himself a similar promise. He wasn't going to let anyone else in his heart again. It was the only way to make sure he never got hurt.

Because there was something inside Finn that poisoned love. There must be a flaw in his anatomy. Everyone who tried to love him wound up hurting him. There must be something inside him that made him hard to love. Sometimes, he didn't blame his ex-lovers for hitting him. But he would never tell Rey that.

* * *

 

Finn's drive back to the hilltop villa was miserable. His air-conditioner had finally puttered out; even with the hand-crank windows rolled down, he was soon covered and sticky with sweat, and he couldn’t wait to get inside to shower off. Thankfully the sweltering heat had pushed from his mind the thoughts about why he was so hard to love. His secret thoughts that whispered to him that he deserved what he got.

Parking his car, Finn clambered out of the Trans Am, surreptitiously peering over his shoulder as though expecting photographers across the street. He quickened his pace up the front walk. When entered the house, he was surprised to hear Michael Jackson songs blaring. The door to the patio was wide open, so Finn followed the sounds of music.

Outside, Poe was floating on a raft in the pool. BB-8 was in his lap, and in his hand, was a martini glass filled with some red drink; a miniature umbrella sat in the glass. There were sunglasses on his face, and he was wearing ridiculously bright orange swim trunks.

A laugh escaped Finn. “If the press saw you now, they'd be more insistent on calling you a diva.”

“It's called relaxation, babe,” drawled Poe.

“I should take a picture and leak it to them.”

Poe made an airy gesture. “Violation of your contract.”

Finn rolled his eyes and set his phone and keys on the glass patio table. “Is this what you did all day?”

“When I came back from the studio, it was too hot to do anything else. Besides BB-8 likes to swim. Don't you, buddy?” Giggling, Poe rubbed the corgi's tummy, and the dog barked affectionately.

“Billie Jean” changed to “Smooth Criminal.” Finn itched to shower, but he sat there, watching Poe. The other man's raft floated over to the edge of the pool. BB-8 hopped onto the surrounding concrete and skipped over to the grass, rolling around in it and basking in the sun with his tongue hanging from his mouth. Poe followed the dog off the raft, having sipped the last of the contents in his glass, and slipped his bare feet into a pair of sandals.

Poe's brown skin shone like bronze in the glow of the sun. Dark curls dotted his chest and surrounded his naval, trailing down and disappearing below his swim trunks. Slogged down with water, his shorts hung lower than normal, and Finn definitely did not let his eyes linger on this new revelation. Poe set his glass on the table and peered over at Finn, a playful smirk on his face.

Soon, Poe was moving. His body became a fluid entity, and Finn couldn't stop staring at the rhythmic flow of Poe's body. He seemed to glide across the concrete and spun about. Finn was enamored, watching the gyration of Poe's hips and the seamless way his body responded to the music. It was as though Poe stirred the air around him and made nature accommodate itself for him instead of the other way around.

Realization dawned on Finn, and he laughed, “Holy shit! You memorized the ‘Smooth Criminal' routine.”

Poe smiled, never missing a beat with his dancing or singing: 

_“Annie, are you ok_   
_Will you tell us that you're ok_   
_There's a sign at the window_   
_That he struck you_   
_A crescendo, Annie_   
_He came into your apartment_   
_He left the bloodstains on the carpet_   
_Then you ran into the bedroom_   
_You were struck down_   
_It was your doom.”_

The verse ended. Poe's body kept moving, but his singing faded, allowing Michael Jackson's voice on the stereo to take over once again. “Learning to dance like Michael Jackson is gay culture, Finn. I spent the majority of my teenage years trying to learn all his dances.”

“I might have to revoke my gay card, then,” said Finn. “I never learned to dance. And besides, I always preferred Prince.”

“Prince?” Poe stopped dancing and then practically skipped over to his phone. “Guess you can have your card back, Finn, but you're on thin fucking ice.”

Finn laughed, and Poe used the bluetooth controls on his phone to change the track. Michael Jackson's “Smooth Criminal” abruptly changed into Prince's “Little Red Corvette.”

Soon Poe was back at his side. His body seemed to thrum with a wild energy. He spun around Finn. “I should teach you to dance.”

Poe was close enough now that Finn could truly appreciate his dancing. His abdominal muscles tightened while he moved his hips. Droplets of pool water ran down his abs and curled along his prominent hip bones. Finn now understood the fans fawning over this man.

“My body doesn't move like that.” Finn had never seen anyone so in control of their movements and so flexible—and pulling it off in orange swim trunks.

“It's easy.” Poe grabbed Finn's forearm and yanked the man closer to him. “I'll even slow it down.”

One of his arms wrapped around Finn's waist, and he grabbed Finn's hand. Finn mimicked him. A shiver ran down his spine, and he thought back to the way Poe's hands had felt in his yesterday. However, no cameras were watching them by the pool. 

Today, Poe smelled like chlorine and a fruity liquor. Finn decided it was probably the chemical smell making him dizzy. Not the feeling of Poe's wet body pressed against his or the realization of how lithe and flexible he was. It definitely wasn't his toothy grin or his musical laugh or even the way his fingers danced from Finn's waist and over to the small of his back.

Prince's voice was a husky hum in the air around them.

_“Move over baby,_   
_Give me the keys,_   
_I'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine.”_

Poe spun the two of them around, and Finn stumbled. In a panic, he tightened his grip around Poe's waist, marveling at how tiny it was. Before either of them knew what was happening, Finn felt the cold pool water surround him. It was both startling and refreshing. Sputtering, Finn surfaced again and blinked furiously to dispel the water from his eyes. Poe's laughter surrounded him.

“You did that on purpose!”

“You looked like you needed to cool off, pal.”

Finn splashed water at Poe. “You're unbelievable.”

Poe waded closer to Finn. His curls were drenched and matted down, and his sunglasses were askew. Without thinking, Finn reached out and adjusted them, kicking his legs to keep him afloat. He followed Poe's drifting until he felt his feet touched the bottom of the pool in the shallow end.

“Sorry,” Poe said, breaking the silence, “I did warn you I was an ass.”

Finn raised a brow. “An ass? What if I couldn't swim? You'd be a murderer too.”

“I would've saved you.”

Finn scoffed. “You're too tiny to be pulling people out of water.”

“Tiny?”

Before Finn, knew what was happening, there were hands on his waist, and he felt himself being lifted out of the pool and set on the concrete edge. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the slight bulge of Poe's biceps flexing. In response, his stomach fluttered.

“Your life has officially been saved by Poe Dameron.” The man drifted away from Finn, leaning backwards and allowing himself to float.

Finn's wet clothes clung to him, but he remained where he was watching Poe float and the way the water lapped against his skin. His head was tipped back, and Finn could see the bob of his Adam's apple in his throat.

“Do you want to go to my friends' movie night with me?” Finn blurted out.

Poe's body stilled in the water.

“It's just a stupid thing we do on weekends. You don't have to come. I know you're busy and ha—”

Poe interrupted him. “I'd love to come.”

Grinning, Finn stood up. His legs seemed to shake beneath him. “I have to go—um, shower. A-and clothes. I need dry clothes.”

When Poe didn’t respond, Finn hurried inside. Shower. Clothes. And Rey. He needed to text Rey. Halfway up the stairs, Finn spun around on his heels, running back outside to grab his phone from the table. Poe was no longer aimlessly floating in the water. He was back on the raft, singing along under his breath to “The Way You Make Me Feel.”


	4. Hot Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe made Finn see his future in clearer terms rather than as a hazy, undecipherable fog he usually imagined it as.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be making a playlist for the music featured in this fic. For this chapter, you should listen to the song "Hot Minute" by Caleb Lovely, which is on YouTube and Spotify and on this link:
> 
> https://youtu.be/lbrtBvyFMfw
> 
> Also: Since Oscar does sing folk songs and covers, I will be attributing other songs to Poe as well as using ones from Oscar.

Growing up, Finn had quickly learned that he broke everything he touched.

There was something wrong with him. Something that made it so anything he tightened his grasp on shattered in his hands. Finn worked hard to avoid anything fragile. He was sick of breaking things and staying behind to clean up the mess. No matter who came into Finn's life, he ruined them. Charming boys would turn angry and curse at him and hit him. Something inside Finn caused them to snap, and he felt obligated to remain and try to pick up the pieces of those he had broke. 

When he first met Rey, he was so sure he would break her too. But Rey was different. While there was irreparable damage to his heart, Rey didn't look at him like something flawed that needed fixed. At first, Finn was disappointed. Rey had the uncanny ability to fix anything. An engine that hadn't run in months would roar to life beneath her hands. So Finn couldn't figure out why she would not just reach out and repair him like he was a run-down car or even look at him with calculating eyes and run mental diagnostics on what was broken underneath his skin. What was it inside Finn that ruined people and turned them into monsters?

Rey was different. She didn't handle Finn as though he were in object. She treated him like a person. Somewhere inside himself, Finn realized that Rey looked at him as though he had the capabilities to fix himself. She looked at Finn like he had an ever-growing web of choices weaving in front of him, and all of those opportunities could be in his grasp if he pieced the broken parts of himself back together.

Rey helped Finn make the bravest choice in his life.

He chose to live. He was tired of being a passive survivor in his own life, running from one bad decision to another.

The third time his most recent boyfriend came home late, reeking of booze and a woman's perfume, Finn made the choice to pull away from those hands and murmured apologies. Finn packed his bag and walked out the door. He didn't go home. He didn't want to disappoint his father and reveal to him the weakness that had made him move in with an unfaithful man. Instead, he knocked on the door to Rey's apartment.

She looked at his tear-streaked face and the quivering of his lips and reached out and held him. She gave Finn a home.

* * *

 

The next three days passed with some semblance of normalcy. Poe spent the majority of his time at the studio or in meetings with his management, and Finn was left to his own devices in finding ways to fill his empty schedule. He took BB-8 on walks, started going to the gym again, and found time to finish _Wuthering Heights._ Putting it down, he vowed to never read another Bronte novel. He didn't want to read stories where girls fell in love with monstrous men. He had lived through that.

While at the house, Finn made a point to avoid the swimming pool outside. Whenever he looked towards it, all he could see was Poe dancing around him and feel the heat of emotion that pooled deep into his stomach that afternoon. Finn tried not to dwell on that. He didn't want to. If he reached out for Poe, Finn would break him the way he broke everything else in his life, and Poe didn't deserve that.

Poe Dameron treated Finn differently from Rey. Rey treated him as a person who had the potential to fix himself. Poe treated Finn like he wasn't even broken. He would come home late from the studio, catch Finn watching television in the living room, and take a seat next to him, smiling and asking how Finn's day went. When Finn spoke, Poe was always attentive. He never interrupted or talked over Finn, which was a foreign concept to Finn. The majority of conversations with his partners were always one-sided. They would lament to Finn about how stressed or depressed or angry they were, but Finn could never participate. He could never discuss his own traumas. Eventually, he stopped trying. He stuffed those feelings deep into his heart and ignored the heavy feeling in his chest.

But Poe spent more time listening to Finn and probing him with questions than he spent talking about himself. Why did Finn want to be a teacher? What school did he want to go to? What were his favorite books? Did he have any to recommend to Poe? Conversations with Poe rarely centered around Finn's past. Instead, they focused on the present or his future.

It was strange to talk to someone with a mindset for looking ahead instead of looking back. Finn was always fixating on the past, so he rarely thought forward to his future. Poe made him think about it. Poe made Finn see his future in clearer terms rather than the hazy, undecipherable fog he usually imagined it as.

He had a future. After this job was all said and done, Finn could see possibilities stretch out before him. All he had to do was reach out and grab them.

* * *

 

Friday morning arrived. Finn was awoken to the sound of Poe's footsteps down the hallway and the pattering of paws as BB-8 hurried after him. Finn sat up in his bed just as Poe opened the door to his room and cautiously stuck his head in.

“You awake, buddy?”

“Awake _and_ decent.”

Poe's laugh was breathy and tired. “I have to go to a television interview. Do you want to come?”

Finn was surprised. He and Poe weren't supposed to make a scheduled appearance together in public until next week. They would go to dinner, and Paige would anonymously tip off the paparazzi. She didn't want to move too fast by pushing Finn into the limelight so soon after the initial photographs. She wanted to build suspense by keeping Finn a mystery. 

“A-am I allowed?”

“Sure. You're my boyfriend, aren't you?”

Finn's mouth was dry. “Yeah. Sure. I'd love to.”

Finn clambered out of bed and set to work getting dressed. Remembering his nerves when the photos were being taken, he set out carefully selecting a pair of black jeans, a white button-down shirt, and his favorite blue jacket. He wanted some confidence if there were photographers around.

Outside, a car was waiting for the two of them. Poe and Finn both slid in the backseat. In the passenger seat, Paige sat, her phone out, giving directions to the driver.

She smiled at Finn. “How're you?”

“Keeping busy.”

“Finn's being polite,” said Poe. “I think he's fucking bored. Figured I would show him what they're paying me all this money for.”

Paige's lips were pursed, and she looked like she wanted to say something to Poe. Instead, she turned around and pointed out a shortcut to the driver.

Poe turned to face Finn. He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to Finn. “Sorry for talking for you. But Paige will grill you if she gets the opportunity, and you're so nice that you'll let her.”

Finn felt a rush of happiness flood him. Poe thought he was nice. Poe apologized for speaking for Finn. No one ever apologized for speaking for him or talking over him.

“You're such a martyr,” Finn found himself teasing back, “What did I do in my life before you?”

“Suffered,” joked Poe.

But he wasn't wrong.

The car pulled into a studio lot for the morning talk show, and they all slid out. Immediately, Paige began listing off to Poe what he had to do to prepare, what he should talk about on the show, and what subjects to steer away from. Finn quickened his pace to keep up.

Backstage was frenzied. Makeup artists and wardrobe flocked to Poe instantaneously. He let them peel his jacket off and replace it with a slick black blazer. Others took a comb to his hair desperately trying to tame his bedhead. Hairspray was needed for this task. They finally shuffled Poe over to a chair and pulled out a razor to clean up his face. Finn followed in awe at the calamity around them and how Poe took it with such ease.

An assistant brought both him and Poe coffee, and Finn sipped it gratefully. He hadn't planned to be up this early and was glad for anything to give him a little kick.

“And I was calling you a diva _before_ ,” snickered Finn.

Poe smiled, but he didn't dare respond as a young man dragged the razor across his jaw.

In no time, Poe was dressed and clean shaven. His hair was combed and neat, having been tamed with gel and hairspray. Leaning back and stretching, Poe took a sip of the coffee. He turned to speak to Finn, but Paige walked over.

“They want to know if we can bring Finn on as a surprise guest.”

Finn stared. They wanted him? No one ever wanted him.

Immediately, Poe shook his head, surprising Finn. “No.”

“Bu—”

“I said no,” Poe all but snarled. He stood up and stalked away while Paige hurried after him. Soon, the two were in a full-fledged argument in hushed voices.

Finn tried to listen in, but he quickly gave up. Why had Poe been so angry at the prospect of Finn on camera with him? Was he embarrassed? If that was the case, why did he hire Finn? Did he even like Finn? Finn felt as though they were getting along, but maybe he was misinterpreting the situation. Maybe Poe was simply being nice to Finn. Maybe he was making the best of a bad situation?

Why had he invited Finn then?

“—f you put him in front of those cameras, I will walk out. I don't give a shit if it's live television, I will leave.”

Finn thought he heard Paige say, “You can't protect him from this,” but it was so loud backstage that Finn wasn't sure. What would Poe want to protect him from? Publicity and cameras were now part of Finn's job. In fact, next week, the two of them would go on a staged date simply to be seen by reporters.

The show's director ushered everyone into place. Finn purposefully avoided looking at Poe, pretending he was too interested in his coffee to notice the other man.

Scattered across the backstage were screens to broadcast the show. Finn watched the show begin. The hostess’ name was Amilyn Holdo. She was tall and graceful with a youthful smile and purple hair. She told the audience there was a surprise guest—surprise musical talent—with them tonight. Poe's interview and song were the last segment of the show, but he had to be close to the stage so as not to miss his cue. Finn felt Poe's eyes on him, but he ignored it.

Finn was used to being ushered aside. Why would Poe be any different?

The show had a brief current news update, celebrity gossip, a segment to read “thirst tweets,” and a viral video. Amilyn was charming through it all, teasing her audience about the surprise guest, but never revealing the secret until the opportune moment.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our surprise guest! With us tonight is famous musician Poe Dameron!”

The crowd clapped and cheered. Poe strode onto the set, taking a seat in the chair across from Holdo, and waved at the audience with a charming grin on his face.

“So good to have you on the show this morning, Poe.”

“Glad to be here, Amilyn.”

“So…first thing first, you're recording a new album?”

“Yeah I am, and I'm actually going to play you a new song today.” The crowd screamed.

Amilyn settled them down. She asked him about the album, its release date, and the writing process.

“It's great, really,” answered Poe. He was calm and collected on camera, Finn noticed, as if he had been born to be in front of it. “But the writing does get hard with trying to find the inspiration. And when you find that inspiration, it's hard to find the right words to convey those feelings and moments. When people listen to these songs, I want them to also hear a story. And not just about my life. I want them to be able to relate to the music and be able to hear their own stories in mine.”

“What are some of your songs about?” Holdo asked, a playful smile in her face. “Any love songs?”

Poe chuckled, “There might be.”

“Any of these inspired by a certain someone? I'm only asking because we've all seen the pictures and the headlines. You have a new boyfriend?”

Poe smiled. “Yeah. His name is Finn.”

Cheers erupted. Finn's stomach was fluttering. He watched Poe grin and look down, blushing. 

“How’d you two meet?”

Finn's eyes widened. They had never established the backstory. 

“We met through a friend,” said Poe. “Um, but really, it was fate that dropped Finn into my life.”

Both the audience and Holdo cooed. “And what's he like?”

“Finn is… well, this is what I was talking about with trying to find the right words. Because Finn is cool and smart and nice and funny and a little quiet, but even those words don't convey who he is.”

Finn smiled in spite of himself and in spite of being upset with Poe. He knew the other man was lying to the audience, but it felt nice to hear someone say those words about him. They were lies, but they were nice lies.

“Well.” Holdo leaned over to pat Poe's knee. “We want to wish you the best in your relationship.”

She directed Poe over to a chair on the stage set up near the microphone. A crewmember ran out to hand Poe an acoustic guitar. He sat there, tuning the instrument before leaning into the microphone. He glanced over to the side of the stage for a brief moment before looking back to the audience. In the studio lights, his eyes twinkled.

“This is a new song inspired by… recent events,” he said, “It's called ‘Hot Minute.’”

Finn watched on the screen as Poe strummed the guitar at a lively rhythm. Watched his fingers deftly maneuver across the neck of the instrument. Poe really did have beautiful hands.

_“So what's the word? What are you thinking?_  
_It's way past the point of consuming my thinking._  
_That’s alright. I'm consumed. It's too late. I'm consumed._  
_You're in your black shirt, and I'm in my jeans._  
_You're pretty and graceful and as it seems,_  
_I'm completely sold, completely sold on loving you._  
_Won't you say yes?_  
_Please give me one chance_  
_To let me take you out for a hot minute_  
_We'll joke and we'll laugh and then_  
_I'll fall in love with you. Fall in love with you._  
_Oh, I'm desperate to say you're the one I'm after_  
_Clever? Not yet, but that’ll soon come after_  
_You say ‘it's meant to be.’_  
_Oh, say it's meant to be.”_

The song continued, the narrative of Poe begging for a minute with the mystery man unfolding. Of Poe wanting to fall in love. Finn wanted to know what recent event had inspired the song. Was Poe dating? If that were the case, why did he need Finn? Or had he just met someone and now he wanted Finn out?

Finn's head was in shambles as he approached Paige. “C-can I get a ride back?”

Paige looked surprised. “Poe's nearly finished.”

“I feel sick.”

She nodded, throwing a sympathetic arm around him and leading him outside to where the car was waiting. She told Finn she would hire another car for Poe, she would tell Poe he hadn't felt good, and she hoped he felt better. 

Finn slid into the passenger seat, and the driver pulled out of the lot. “Back home?” he asked.

But Finn knew Poe would be home soon, too. He shook his head and asked if the driver could drop him off at the bookstore near Maz's Café. He would have Rey bring him home. He needed time to clear his head and reading always helped. Besides, he needed a new book. Preferably, one without love.

* * *

 

The smells of cinnamon and coffee in Maz's Café were comforting to Finn. They settled him down, and he felt he could breathe again. Rey promised she would be over on her lunch break, so Finn settled in his chair to crack open his new book. He had wanted something dense to distract himself, so he bought Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. There was more emphasis on horror and hunting monsters than love. It would work as a distraction.

He didn't even make it two pages before Finn realized he had been rereading the same paragraph. He couldn't even focus on reading. He was screwed. Drumming his fingers on the table, he abandoned the book. Then, against his own better judgement, he pulled out his phone. There were three messages from a strange number.

He clicked the first and read: _Hey, I bullied Paige into giving me your number. We live together but don't have each other's numbers? Lol._

The next two were also from him.

Poe: _Are you okay? Paige said you were sick?_

Poe: _Did you like my song? ;p_

Finn itched to text him back, but he pushed the urge away. He needed to think. He knew he would have to talk to Poe eventually, but for now, he could ignore everything. 

Turning off his phone, he opened his book again. The events of this morning dissipated as Finn focused on the novel's text.

He could breathe again. He was going to be okay.

 

 


	5. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe's fingers fluttered down his neck and rested against his pulse. Finn could feel his heart beating loud in his chest. Could Poe feel it too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their comments, feedback, and constructive criticism. If you ever have any thoughts or concerns, feel free to message me at huttslut.tumblr.com. 
> 
> Several people messaged me about my depiction of Poe as tiny. I want you to know that this was intentional. I alluded to the reasonings, but I hope this chapter clears up any misconceptions. 
> 
> Also remember, the issues I write about are often personal to me and my life. I research them as well as discuss them with others. So if you ever want to discuss your own experiences or feel I didn't quite get something right, feel free to talk to me about it! I am always open to discussions and helpful criticisms.

When Rey and Jessika dropped Finn off at the house, night had fallen. The inky black sky overhead glimmered with stars. A cool autumnal breeze rustled the trees. He got out of the car, thanking them, and the two girls told him to feel better.

He hadn't talked to Rey about his feelings of doubt from the morning. He didn't want her worrying that he was already getting too attached in the situation. Instead, after she picked him up from Maz's, he spent the day at her apartment while she and Jessika finished their shifts at her dad's shop. Finn's phone remained off for the duration of his stay, and he read a large chunk of his book.

Rey and Jessika drove away, and Finn walked up the driveway only to stop in his tracks. There was a figure sitting on the stoop of the front porch, cigarette smoke curling around them. They raised their head upon hearing him.

It was Poe. His eyes softened, and his face broke into a small smile.

“Hey,” he croaked.

Finn stood frozen to the spot. “Hey.”

“I wanted to get you medicine, but I didn't know what was wrong with you. Sorry.”

Finn felt guilty. Poe had worried about him. He had wanted to buy Finn medicine and take care of him.

Finn stepped forward and took a seat beside Poe on the stoop. Next to Poe was an ash tray nearly filled to the brim. His voice had sounded raw, and Finn realized Poe had probably been chainsmoking. Poe took a final drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out.

“Sorry,” murmured Finn, at a loss for any other words.

“Not your fault. I should be sorry. When I invited you, I didn't think they wanted to put you in front of the cameras. I mean, I know that’s your job, but it wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry they tried to spring that on you. Just know… I'd never put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable.”

Finn's stomach turned. Poe wasn't embarrassed by him. He had been trying to protect him. It was a foreign concept to Finn.

“It's okay.” Without thinking, Finn reached out and grabbed Poe's hand.

Poe's breathing hitched. Slowly, he laced their fingers together. This felt right. This was just like that first morning together when their hands had fitted together like they were two halves of the same whole.

“Finn,” Poe muttered, still staring at their linked hands, “Can you promise me something?”

“Yeah. Anything.”

“If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know. And if you ever decide you want out of this job, just tell me. Don't worry about the contracts. I never want you in a position where you feel forced or powerless.”

Finn squeezed Poe's hand. “I promise, Poe.”

Without warning, Poe's head was on his shoulder, carefully resting against Finn.

Finn didn't move or talk. He let Poe lay against him while fighting the urge to wrap an arm around the other man. Part of him wanted to ask Poe about the song and who the other man was, but he didn't want to break the calm spell that surrounded them.

“I told you my mom was an airline pilot?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, at nights, before she would have to leave, she'd bring me outside. We'd sit and watch the stars for hours, and she would point out the constellations to me. And she'd say, ‘If you ever miss me, just look to the sky and the stars. That's where I'll be.’ Sometimes, I still look up there, searching for her.”

“I'm sorry, Poe.”

“What about you?”

“I grew up in the foster system. Didn't really have a family until my dad adopted me,” Finn told him.

Poe squeezed his hand. “Does he treat you right?”

“Yeah. He does.” Finn smiled. “He wants to meet you.”

“If that's what you want, just tell me.”

Finn's heart swelled. He wrapped his free arm around Poe and let himself hold the other man. The action made him think about something he hadn't wanted to in a long time.

_Finn sat in a small room on an overstuffed armchair. It was three weeks since his final break up—three weeks since Finn had sworn off opening his heart to another person. He didn't want to be there, but Rey had begged him to give it a chance. Across from him sat Dr. Kalonia, her legs crossed and her eyes scrutinizing him._

_She asked him questions about his past and dug into the fresh wounds of his relationships. The therapist asked him how he saw himself. How he was coping. What he was afraid of._

_“I'm afraid,” said Finn slowly, “of breaking people. Everyone I get close to, they fall apart. They become angry and… violent. I know it's me. There's something inside me that brings out the worst in people.”_

_“What about your friend Rey? You talk about her a lot.”_

_“I love Rey. That’s why I'm careful around her. But sometimes, she'll hold me or grab my hand.”_

_“What do you do when she does those things?” Dr. Kalonia asked._

_Finn shrugged. “I let her.”_

_“You don't reciprocate?”_

_“No. I don't want to hurt her or break her. She's so tiny. I might crush her.”_

_Dr. Kalonia frowned and leaned forward. “What about me, Finn? What do you see when you look at me?”_

_The doctor had knowing eyes and a kind smile. Her face looked worn with age and experience._

_“Fragile,” said Finn finally, “I see someone I might hurt. S-someone I can hurt. I mean, look at me.”_

_“What do you want me to see?”_

_Finn held up his hands. “Look. My hands… they're huge.”_

_“They look like normal hands to me.”_

_“But they're not.” Finn sighed in frustration. He didn't know how to make Dr. Kalonia see it. How could she not see how easily it would be for Finn to crush someone beneath his hands. He had already done it. All of his previous relationships, he had broken them all. Everything he held fell apart. He would hold another person, and they would shatter. They would go from gentle to violent. Finn's hands were like poison._

_“Finn,” said Dr. Kalonia, patiently waiting for him to return to the moment, “It's evident you have some trauma and anxiety. I would like a few more sessions with you, but I think you might have body dysmorphia.”_

_He knew it. There was something wrong with him. “What's that?”_

_“Body dysmorphia is a body image disorder. Usually, it's characterized by someone having preoccupations with some perceived flaw. In your case, Finn, you see yourself as large and potentially harmful to others. You compare yourself to others constantly. To you, everyone is tiny and fragile.”_

_“It's true,” muttered Finn. The people around him were tiny and fragile and breakable. He wanted to tell the doctor this was not a perceived flaw. There really was something wrong with him._

_“Finn, you focus on the pieces of yourself and others. You are not seeing how all these pieces come together as a whole. I believe if you try fixating on people as a whole and not the specific details, you might not see them as breakable. If you stop fixating on singular parts of your own body, such as your hands, you will be able to see yourself as you really are.”_

_Finn shook his head. Dr. Kalonia did not understand. This wasn't Finn's imagination. He was flawed, inside and out._

_“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Finn?” Dr. Kalonia did not wait for his response. “I see a young man uncomfortable in his own skin. Underneath that I see a fragile—_ yes, fragile _—man who has experienced trauma and abuse in his relationships. I see gentleness and fear and the strength to recover from it. Finn, recovery is a process. It doesn't happen overnight. But it also can't happen if we don't admit to ourselves that there are things we need to recover from. I want to help you through this, Finn… if you’ll let me.”_

_For a moment, Finn hoped. He hoped for the future and the thought of getting better. He thought about not feeling like a threat to everyone around him. The feeling passed. Dr. Kalonia was nice, but she was wrong._

_When Finn left her office, he didn't schedule a follow-up appointment. He knew what was wrong with him, and it wasn't body dysmorphia._

With his arm around Poe, Finn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to focus on the feeling of Poe's body against him—as a whole, not just parts. Poe Dameron felt solid beneath his touch. There were slight curves and hard edges and muscles. Not just delicate bones and breakable pieces.

Poe released a breathy sigh, and Finn pulled his arm back, eyes snapping open. The moment shattered.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Finn tried to keep the panic from his voice.

Poe raised his head and looked at Finn inquisitively. “What? No. You didn't hurt me, Finn.”

“Oh,” Finn murmured without thinking. For some reason, he couldn't get Dr. Kalonia's words out of his head. “Sometimes, I think I do.”

“You think a lot of yourself, David Hasselhoff,” joked Poe, but his voice was gentle. Pulling away from Finn and releasing his hand, Poe reached up and touched Finn's face, cupping his cheek experimentally.

Part of Finn wanted to flinch and pull away, lest Poe see his flaws, but another part of him felt dizzy and euphoric. Someone wanted to touch him. _Poe_ wanted to touch him. His mind reeled, searching for the words to describe Poe's touch. His mind was blank, so he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling. He let Poe run his fingers along his jaw and allowed him to trace his fingers around Finn's lips.

“Is this okay?” whispered Poe.

“Yes,” Finn breathed back shakily.

Poe's fingers fluttered down his neck and rested against his pulse. Finn could feel his heart beating loud in his chest. Could Poe feel it too?

Suddenly, Finn wanted desperately to crawl out of his skin. He was so sure Poe could detect his flaws even though his fingers had stilled against Finn's pulse. All Finn could think about were Dr. Kalonia's words, and the brief moment when Poe hadn't felt fragile under Finn's touch. He had felt solid and firm beside Finn.

He was drowning in his memories. He could see his ex-boyfriend Slip, shoving him against a wall and snarling, “Why do you ruin everything you touch?” His next boyfriend, kissing him and promising to fix him. The text when that relationship ended: _Sorry, but you're too fucked up for me_. Dr. Kalonia's voice when she told him recovery was possible. The computer screen when he searched “body dysmorphia” after the therapy session. The sound of glass shattering.

Returning back to the front porch with Poe, Finn gasped for air.

“Finn? Buddy, are you okay?”

Poe's hands were cupping his face, and he was telling Finn to breathe. Nodding, Finn followed Poe's instructions. Inhale. Exhale. His face felt wet, and he realized he was crying.

Poe was repeating his name. “Finn. Finn. You're okay. Finn, just breathe. Is there anything else I can do?”

Finn's breathing returned to normal, but his body wouldn't stop shaking. Before he knew what was happening, Poe had thrown his arms around Finn's waist and held him. He was solid and firm. He was muscles and curves and edges. He was strong and warm, and he was holding Finn. In response, Finn buried his head into Poe's chest. Tonight, Poe smelled like cigarettes. Finn found he didn't mind.

Poe held Finn and rocked him, whispering his name and repeating that Finn was okay. For the first time in years, Finn believed those words.

When Finn stopped crying, Poe was still holding him, tracing patterns along Finn's back. Finn remained where he was in Poe's arms, not wanting to pull away. He knew he had to. This was nothing more than a job. Besides, it seemed as if Poe had his eyes set on someone else if his song from that morning was any indication. It was for the best. He didn't need any of Finn's baggage. But Finn still didn't move.

“Are you okay?” whispered Poe.

He was too exhausted to lie. “No.”

“What happened?”

“My first boyfriend beat me,” Finn admitted. He didn't know whether he really wanted to tell Poe this or if he just wanted to stay in his embrace longer. “He hit me a lot. Sometimes, he'd say he was helping me and correcting me. Other times, he gave no reason. I loved him. Most of the time, he was nice and sweet and caring. S-so I figured it must have been me. I broke him. I made him that way.”

Poe pulled Finn closer and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head. “I'm sorry, Finn.”

“It was always me,” rambled Finn. “No matter the relationship, I could take a sweet and caring man and turn him angry or unfaithful. It was like there was something wrong with me. Poe, I break people.”

“No you don't, Finn.” Poe sounded so sincere, and Finn wanted to cry again, but he was emotionally drained.

Reveling in the security of Poe's arms, Finn kept talking. He told Poe what he was too afraid to say to Rey. About how he deserved the abuse. About how he didn't blame his ex-boyfriends. About how he felt uncomfortable in his own skin. How he was afraid to break someone else. Poe never interrupted. He sat there, listened, and held Finn.

In Poe's arms, Finn felt small. He felt comfortable. He felt... safe.

 

 


	6. In a Gold Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take long for Poe's hand to find Finn's. In those brief moments when they were intertwined, Finn did not see his hands as the hands of disaster. Poe's hands, with fingers hardened by callouses, complemented Finn's hands. In Poe's hands, Finn's felt soft and gentle and normal—if only for a brief moment until reality shifted back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my readers.
> 
> If you ever want to talk about Finn and Poe or have any feedback for me, feel free to find me on Tumblr: huttslut.
> 
> The poem in this is written by Richard Siken and is in his book Crush, which helped inspire this fic--especially Finn's character.

As with most mornings when Finn awoke, the house was empty except for himself and BB-8; the corgi had taken to curling up in Finn's bed when Poe left for the studio. Finn’s body felt heavy as though it had crashed and burned in the night. His bones turned to anchors, and his skin shivered like the sea. Groggily, he forced himself out of bed and into the shower. The hot spray was rejuvenating. He had never felt such therapeutic release as he did feeling the hot water rain against his skin.

It was a brief moment of clarity. He ran his hands down his sides, closing his eyes and picturing himself as a whole. He was not fragments. He was not giant hands or rigorous muscles or a hulking frame. He was a person. To remind himself, he slid his hand up his side and along his chest to rest against his heart. The steady beat was a reminder. He did not have to be an entity of pieces stitched together like Frankenstein's monster. He could be whole. He could be Finn.

Finn stepped out of the shower. It was like a switch flipped. Once again, he felt large and out-of-place.

BB-8 woke up and pattered behind him on the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, he noticed a note on the counter next to a plastic container with a muffin in it. Poe had left him breakfast. Taking a seat, he pulled the muffin towards him along with the note. BB-8 barked and made a daring leap onto the stool beside Finn.

“Don't tell Poe I let you eat breakfast with me.” Finn picked a small piece of muffin and let the dog eat it from his hand. “This is our secret.”

When he finished the muffin, he pulled the note close to him and read:

_Finn, hope you feel better today! Can't wait for movie night._

“I had a dream about you. We were in a gold room  
where everyone finally gets what they want.  
You said _Tell me about your books, your visions made_  
_of flesh and light_ and I said _This is the Moon. This is_  
_The Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you_  
_there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar_  
_cube…_ We were in a gold room where everyone  
finally gets what they want, so I said _What do you_  
_want, sweetheart?_ And you said _Kiss me_. Here I am  
leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome  
burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,  
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.  
We are all going forward. None of us are going back.” –“Snow and Dirty Rain” by Richard Siken

Finn beamed. Poe was recommending him poetry to read. It was nice that Poe thought about Finn's desire to study English and become a teacher. The only person who ever recommended him literary works was Luke, and he was enamored with the classics. He would have to think of something to recommend to Poe in return.

Folding the note up, Finn slipped it into his pocket and found the leash to take BB-8 for a walk.

“Gotta work that muffin off. Otherwise Poe will know our secret….”

* * *

 

When Poe came home, he was in a good mood. He babbled incessantly about the song lyrics that poured out of him in a flood of rare inspiration. He rambled about how excited he was to meet Finn's friends.

“It's no big deal,” said Finn. “But, remember, only Rey and Jess know about us, so to everyone else, you're my…uh…boyfriend.”

Poe grinned. His wet hair was quickly drying into loose curls on his head from his shower. “I hope I win their approval.” He winked at Finn.

He offered to drive, so Finn sat in the passenger seat of Poe's Mercedes and gave him directions. Sitting in traffic gave Finn ample opportunity to watch Poe. He concentrated, trying to see Poe the way he had seen him last night. Not as delicate parts that might shatter. For a few moments, it worked, but the switch always flipped back. While Finn studied Poe, Poe jammed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, moving his hands wildly, and playfully serenading Finn.

During radio commercials, Finn tried to prepare Poe for his friends. Snap was friendly, but he never shut up. Karé seemed to never talk, but when she did, you were expected to listen; she didn't tolerate people speaking over her or interrupting. Jessika was intimidating, but it was all an act. After all, Finn had seen her giggling and cuddling with Rey several times. And Rey was plain weird, he informed Poe. She liked to chew on things, and she liked to talk nonstop about her latest obsessions.

* * *

 

After grueling traffic, they arrived at the apartment. Finn took a deep breath, not quite knowing why he was nervous. These were his friends. Still… he wanted them to like Poe. And he also wanted to convince Snap and Karé that Poe was actually his boyfriend. Suddenly, Poe grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. He smiled encouragingly at Finn. Nodding, Finn led him up the stairs to the apartment, walking in without knocking.

They were the last to arrive. Snap was staking his claim on the beanbag while Rey and Jessika pulled out snacks and alcohol from the cupboards. Karé was already helping herself to a beer.

“There are the lovebirds!” announced Rey.

“Poe, this is the…squad. Squad, this is Poe. Poe Dameron. My boyfriend.” Internally, Finn flinched. Jessika smirked at him.

Snap waved at Poe. “So you're the man who's exposing our little boy to the public? I'm impressed. Finn always hates being in pictures.”

“Not true.”

“You never take selfies with me.”

Karé shot Snap a look. “Isn't it obvious? Finn only poses with attractive men.”

Frowning, Snap raised his hand to his heart. “You wound me, Kun.”

Finn tugged Poe quickly over to the counter and started pouring himself a drink. Rum, that was what he needed to abate the nerves. He poured one rum and coke for himself and one for Poe.

“So what are we watching tonight, lads?” Rey asked.  
Jessika wanted to watch _Die Hard_ for the millionth time. Snap wholeheartedly agreed. Karé wanted a movie with hot girls in it, which Snap agreed to as well. Poe recommended _Moulin Rouge_ , which made Rey laugh; soon, the two were in a polite debate over what musicals were considered garbage. When they finished, having failed to reach a consensus, Poe was frowning.

“What about Finn?”

Karé rolled her eyes. “Finn always suggests monster movies.”

It was true. He didn't care for the monster love stories (after all, thinking about himself, what monster deserved love?), but he liked old-fashioned monster horror films. Sometimes, they made him feel better about himself.

“I changed my mind,” said Poe, “I vote for Finn's movie.”

“You can't do that!” insisted Snap. “Can he do that? Can he retract his vote? Isn't this a democracy?”

“He can do that,” said Jess. “He has to if he wants to get into Finn's pants.”

Finn blushed and was about to protest when Rey interrupted. “I vote for Finn's movie, too.”

Snap seemed utterly confused. “Is Rey dating Finn now too?”

Walking past him, Rey tousled Finn's hair before squeezing into the armchair with Jess. Karé was still stationed in the kitchen, picking at the chips and pouring shots of vodka for herself. Finn poured another rum for himself and one for Poe before taking a seat on the couch next to him. Vaguely, he wondered if his friends could see how nervous he was.

It didn't take long for Poe's hand to find Finn's. In those brief moments when they were intertwined, Finn did not see his hands as the hands of disaster. Poe's hands, with fingers hardened by callouses, complemented Finn's hands. In Poe's hands, Finn's felt soft and gentle and normal—if only for a brief moment until reality shifted back into place.

“Finn? What movie?” asked Rey.

“ _The Shining_.”

She arched a brow. “Nice choice. Horror, but not necessarily a monster film.”

Man is a monster, Finn didn't say to Rey.

Rey navigated through Netflix to find the movie. Karé grabbed another bottle of beer, switched the lights out, and squeezed on the couch next to Finn. In order to make room for her, Finn scooted closer to Poe who grabbed Finn around the waist and tugged him into his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karé smirking.

Finn felt panicked. He was in Poe's lap. He could crush Poe. He didn't want to hurt Poe. Subtly, he tried to wriggle off the other man.

Tightening his grip around Finn slightly, Poe leaned in and murmured, “Is this movie night or a lap dance?”

Finn swallowed his quip of ‘You wish.’ Instead, he whispered back, “Poe, I'll crush you.”

Poe's breath in his ear tickled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

“I'm serious.”

“I am, too. Have you never looked through the comments on those pictures of you and me? Several fans want you to suffocate them with your thighs.”

Poe snickered, and Jess told him to shut up.

Finn had never explored the comment sections before. Rey summarized most of them, but he could never brave it himself. Strangers found him attractive? They found parts of his body desirable? Finn wondered if Poe did too or if he was joking to cheer Finn up after last night’s vulnerability. Considering Poe was nursing a crush for someone else, Finn figured it was the latter.

Thinking about Poe's mystery man made Finn guilty for sitting on Poe's lap especially with no cameras present. Muttering an excuse about drinks, Finn wriggled out of his grip and practically stumbled into the kitchen (in his defense, he tripped over Snap). With a trembling hand, Finn grabbed the rum and took a hearty swig of the bottle.

He thought back to Paige warning him that Poe drank a little much and the articles online that Rey found about Poe's problems with alcohol. Finn hadn't seen Poe drink much at all. Was it an issue still? Had it ever been an issue? Why did Finn seem to see a different Poe Dameron than the one paparazzi reported about? Which one was real? Finn took another swig from the bottle to clear his head.

His mind less of a fog and his body looser, Finn wandered back to the couch and joined Poe and Karé. He didn't protest when Poe tugged Finn into his lap. He took a few deep breaths and focused on Poe's body underneath them. Solid and real, not imaginary and made of glass. In fact, if Finn sat real still, he could almost imagine that he fit comfortably on Poe's lap, thighs and all.

Pushing away those thoughts, Finn’s attention diverted back to the movie. Jack Nicholson was barreling through the door with an axe. Shelley Duvall screamed in hysterics. Somehow, Finn thought the scene too real. It felt as though he had lived it.

When the movie ended, Finn's head was swimming. No one argued when Jessika put on _Die Hard_ —not even Rey who hated the movie. However, she loved Jessika, so she tolerated the movie. That was love, Finn thought. Love wasn't violent or built on constant apologies. To keep Slip out of his mind, Finn poured himself another glass of rum and tripped back to the couch.

Poe reached out to steady him, guiding him back onto his lap.

“Are you okay?”

“Finn is a lightweight,” said Jessika.

“He is,” agreed Rey from her seat on Jessika's lap, “When he turned twenty-one, we took him out for drinks. After three shots, he was tanked and sobbing that he didn't have a name. We tried to tell him his name was Finn, but he said those weren't real letters. Then he cried even more because he couldn't remember the alphabet.”

Finn felt dizzy and bubbly. He shook his head and slurred, “Am not.”

“It's okay, buddy,” said Poe, “I've had my fair share of drunk shenanigans.”

“Like punching fascists?” Rey asked with a laugh.

“Nah, that was a sober decision.”

Snap offered Poe a sloppy salute from the ground. “Thank you for your service. Is your name, by any chance, Anne Tifa?”

Finn dissolved into giggles. Perched on Poe's lap, he swayed clumsily until the other man pulled him against his chest. Smiling, Finn buried his face in Poe's neck. Poe smelled like spicy rum and cologne.

“Nazis are bad,” mumbled Finn.

“They sure are, pal.”

With the talk about fascism, Snap suddenly insisted they end the night with _Inglourious Basterds_. Everyone agreed except Karé who was passed out; the vodka had kicked her ass.

Finn wasn't too far behind her. He slammed his eyes closed to dispel the dizziness. He was drunk. And he was in Poe's arms, face buried in his neck. Around him, Finn could hear voices, but he was too far gone to pick out what they were saying.

He bolted up, panicked. “I can't understand what you’re saying.”

“No one's talking,” said Snap.

“Finn, the movie has French in it,” said Rey through her laughter.

“Oh.”

He sighed and sunk back against Poe. He could still understand English; that was a relief. Poe giggled softly and whispered in his ear the English translations, since Finn wasn't looking to see the subtitles. He didn't think he could read the captions if he tried. His mind was drifting. Even Poe's translations were no longer registering.

He felt like he was being lifted into the air with strong arms around him. Half asleep, Finn giggled; he was flying. And then he wasn't. He was in a sea of cotton and linen. He was drowning, and he found he didn't mind.

* * *

 

Finn groaned in the golden light of the next morning that filtered through the sheer curtains in his old room. Blinking, he sat up. On the nightstand, he spotted a glass of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Gratefully, Finn downed two pills. What time was it? Was anyone else awake?

“How're you feeling, buddy?”

Finn jumped.

On the floor beside his bed was Poe, curled up with a spare pillow and blanket. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes, but he looked better than Finn felt.

“I'll live.”

“That's a relief. I'd hate to be dragging a corpse around with me to our date this week. Imagine what the press would say.”

Finn arched a brow. “’Poe Dameron and Close Corpse Friend Spend Quality Time Together?’”

Poe laughed.

His laugh made Finn feel drunk again. Head spinning, he laid back down and groaned, throwing an arm over his face to keep the blinding light away.

“Doesn't your back hurt from sleeping down there?”

“I'll live.”

With his free hand, he patted the empty space beside him. “Lay with me.”

“Uh….” Poe sounded strangled. “A-are you sure?”

“Wouldn't want your back to give out on you, old man,” said Finn.

“Old? I'm only nine years older.”

“Sorry. I know I shouldn't disrespect my elders,” Finn chuckled.

Poe was laughing too, but he climbed into the bed beside Finn anyways. He grabbed Finn’s hand and laced their fingers together. Beside Poe, Finn could feel the world slipping away.

This was new. Finn was always acutely aware of his surroundings. In the foster system, he grew up vigilant. If you let your guard slip for even a second, someone would take advantage of you and prey on that weakness. No matter what Finn endured, he couldn't let himself be weak.

With Poe, Finn surrendered to that feeling.

 


	7. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love had a way of obscuring the senses. Of defying all logic and reason. It was dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for all the comments and kudos. Please feel free to reach out to me on my tumblr if you ever want to discuss issues with my story or even to talk about finn and poe. 
> 
> Tumblr username: huttslut
> 
> Warning: mentions of past abuse in this chapter

After his hangover had dissipated, Finn made a brave decision. He called Dr. Kalonia, which was how he found himself in the overstuffed armchair in her office three days later. The office felt cozier and safer than it had last time he visited. There was a desktop meditation fountain emitting the soothing sound of water trickling on rocks. The blinds to the window were pulled up allowing afternoon sunlight to spill into the room, and the constant sounds of rushing traffic echoed up from the city streets. Since moving away from downtown, Finn realized how much he missed that steady stream of noise.

Dr. Kalonia sat in a chair across from him, a clipboard perched in her lap. “What brings you back here, Finn?”

Finn cleared his throat. “I want to get better.”

She smiled. “Well, ‘better' is a relative term. What is ‘better' to you, Finn?”

Finn thought of a lazy afternoon and a swimming pool and the splash of bodies falling in the water. He thought of movies in Rey's apartment with raucous laughter. Of a bright smile and musical laughter. Of dark curls and eyes the color of honey. Of looking up at the stars and being held. Of the smell of leather and nicotine and spiced rum.

He thought about the morning after movie night and laying in bed with Poe. Neither had been able to fall back asleep, so they whispered to each other well into the afternoon. No one disturbed them. Finn complained about his hangover, and Poe tried to make him feel better by chronicling his own hangover history. Finn had been so groggy, he couldn't remember all the embarrassing moments Poe revealed to him, but he remembered how Poe's hand had felt in his. He remembered how things made sense when their hands were intertwined.

Finn said none of these things.

Instead he said, “’Better' is not feeling uncomfortable with my body. I'm sick of feeling like a stranger in my own skin.”

“That's a healthy outlook. I'm proud of you, Finn. When I last saw you, you wouldn't even admit there was a problem.” She jotted a few notes down. “Has anything changed in your life?”

“I'm in a relationship,” said Finn before quickly adding, “but it's not real. It's a job. I'm…uh…dating Poe Dameron, this famous musician, for publicity.”

Finn was expecting Dr. Kalonia to admonish him for the job or to tell him he wasn't mentally stable enough to participate in that type of charade. He was surprised when she asked, “What's Poe Dameron like?”

“Confusing,” answered Finn. “He's nice and funny and caring. When I talk, he listens to me. He’s respectful and honest.”

“What's confusing about him?”

“Well, he and his publicist hired me to soften up his image. But I haven't seen anything that needs softened—unless the press have been exaggerating his antics. But also, he hired me as a fake boyfriend, but he seems to be interested in someone else.”

“Who?”

“I'm not sure, but he's been writing songs about a man.”

Dr. Kalonia pursed her lips. “Have you asked him about these songs?”

“No.”

“Well, if you two are going to continue this, and if you feel you have a friendship, then you have to communicate.”

“I don't want to overstep my boundaries.”

“Finn,” she said, “if you tiptoe around life, you're never going to fully experience it.”

“I'm scared to address it, though.”

“Why?”

Finn shrugged. “I guess, if I ask him, it will feel like I'm too invested in all of this. It will sound like I'm jealous.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Finn whispered. The answer surprised him. He knew he liked Poe. It was only inevitable considering how fast Finn fell in love, but he didn't want to get hurt. At least, in the room with Dr. Kalonia, there was no shame in admitting that. It would be the first and only time he admitted it; he didn't want to interfere with Poe's chance for happiness.

From Poe Dameron and his mystery interest, the conversation changed to Finn and what he thought about his body. Why did he feel dangerous? What were his triggers? How was he coping? While the questions felt intrusive, Dr. Kalonia asked them in a calming voice. She guided him through his thought processes and offered him suggestions when his mind came up blank. She congratulated his breathing techniques and encouraged him to continue with that coping method. Then she recommended further homework for him.

When he had a maladaptive thought, Dr. Kalonia told him to evaluate the thought and generate an alternative one. She wanted him to make a list of scenarios he explicitly avoided due to his perception of his body as well as a list of scenarios he didn't avoid, but they still made him anxious.

“One of those I already know,” said Finn, “I try to avoid intimate encounters.”

“What are some of your thoughts when you encounter an intimate situation?”

“That I will hurt them.”

“What can you think instead?”

Finn shrugged, at a loss for words.

Poe would know the words, Finn realized. In his songwriting, Poe articulated his thoughts eloquently. Finn only ever read the right words in his books. He thought about Catherine Earnshaw declaring, “ _Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”_

Dr. Kalonia smiled, but it seemed sad. “Finn, for your next appointment, I want you to search for that answer.”

The session wrapped up, and they scheduled another one for the next month. She prescribed Finn some medication to alleviate his anxiety. Unless he was experiencing any issues with the medicine, they would keep their scheduled appointment. Finn had thirty days to answer Dr. Kalonia's question. He didn't think that would be enough time.

* * *

 

With his therapy session ended, Finn wandered over to Maz's Café to sort through his mind. He definitely didn't want to be in the same house as Poe with his mind so scrambled. Finn wouldn't want to do something to ruin their friendship. Or he didn't want to do something stupid like tell Poe about his insecurities—what Dr. Kalonia called “body dysmorphia.” He had been honest when he walked into her office: he wanted to get better. Not just for Poe or Rey or his friends. He wanted to get better for himself. However, keeping away the intrusive thoughts was difficult, and it was harder to change those thoughts.

From his pocket, he pulled out Poe's note: _We were in a gold room where everyone finally gets what they want…. We are all going forward. None of us are going back._

Finn did not want to remain in the past. He didn't want to think about Slip. About the hits and the punches. About the time Slip pushed him through the sliding glass door. The glass shattered. Finn's shoulder bled and wouldn't stop bleeding. Shards of glass cut into his back. When Finn met Slip, Slip had been fun and happy and clumsy. That's what had convinced Finn that he was Slip's ruination. When he left Slip, Slip had been angry and impulsive and reactionary.

Today, Finn thought maybe Slip had been that way the whole time, and Finn had been blind to it. Love had a way of obscuring the senses. Of defying all logic and reason. It was dangerous.

“Can I join you?” A soft voice tore Finn from his mind.

He looked up. Standing near his table was a short woman. She had a round, dimpled face, and her black hair was pulled up behind her. Around her neck was a crescent necklace that looked familiar to Finn, but he couldn't remember where he’d seen it.

“Sure. Sit.” Finn gestured to the empty side of the table where Rey usually sat, and the stranger slid into the booth.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice both anxious and bubbly, “I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Just my thoughts,” chuckled Finn, “and I shouldn't be left alone with them for too long.”

“Well, that's actually why I walked over here.”

Finn arched a questioning brow.

“You looked upset,” she explained, “and I've made a new resolution to reach out to people who look upset. I’m Rose, by the way.”

“That's impressive. I'm Finn, by the way,” he said, “So… what made you decide that?”

Rose grinned. “My sister. She works for this guy, and he'd be over at her place for months, sobbing and drinking. He was so miserable. But then, something must have changed. He was at her place this morning. Finn, he is so happy. I want to make someone that happy.”

“Not worried about stranger danger?” joked Finn.

Rose laughed, “Don't you worry. I carry pepper spray and a tazer.”

“Hate to be on the receiving end of that,” Finn said.

“I promise that's not part of the process.”

“So this is a process now?” chuckled Finn.

She nodded earnestly. “Yeah. You can be my test run.” They shared another laugh, but Rose grew serious again. “Honestly, Finn, I saw you sitting here, and I wanted to talk to you. You looked upset, and I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but I am only looking for conversation. This isn't a therapy session.”

“I appreciate that, Rose.” Finn smiled. “If there were more people like you and your sister in this world, it would be a better place.”

The two of them sat in the booth, talking and learning about each other. Finn had never been more glad to meet someone: Rose was wonderful and refreshing. She was a maintenance worker, but she was studying to he a veterinary technician. She had a dog named Fathier whom she rescued from an abusive past. Finn thought that was ironic considering that Rose had chosen him out of everyone in the café to talk to. She must have an eye for broken things.

However, Rose also seemed to like fixing things. It was her calling. Yet, it was different from Rey's approach to repairing broken objects. Rey only ever tinkered with inanimate objects; Rose helped repair living things.

Finn didn't need her to fix him (Dr. Kalonia told Finn in their session that the power to grow was inside him. He didn't need fixed.), but he wanted to surround himself with people who saw the potential in others to grow and move on from trauma.

“Sorry, I talk a lot,” babbled Rose, “I'm used to being the only one participating in the conversations, since I work with animals. What about you, Finn? What do you do?”

“I want to teach English.”

“Wow. Are you in school?”

“Not yet,” said Finn, hoping the conversation didn't turn to finances. He didn't know how to explain how he made money.

“Everyone goes through life at their own pace,” she said, “For years, I always hid in the shadows. Social anxiety being an issue. I'm working on reaching out to people. Like my sister did for that man.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“No. My sister just told me about him. She works for him, but she says they have a close friendship. She would call me at night after he passed out after crying to her. My heart just broke for this stranger. I was so glad to hear from her this morning.”

“What changed?”

“Apparently, he's falling in love.”

Of course, Finn thought, love was always the solution. To him, that wasn't promising. Finn fell in love too quickly, and it always led to bad decisions. He would stay in an unhealthy relationship for the sake of love. He let himself get hurt. Finn didn't want to get hurt anymore. He was too exhausted.

Still, he thought of Poe. He knew it was fake what they had. But sometimes Finn wondered if there was a possibility there. When Poe looked at him, Finn’s stomach fluttered—especially when he thought he saw a twinkle in Poe's eye. When he and Poe were alone together, the world made sense to Finn.

If that wasn't love, Finn wondered what was.

If that _was_ love, Finn was fucking scared.

 


	8. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, his heart had expanded and made room for another person on its own accord. Somewhere along the way, his heart had made room for Poe, and Finn hadn't even properly registered that fact until Poe pressed a kiss to his hand in the dim light of Chalmun's Cantina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for feedback and comments.
> 
> I know this story deals with sensitive content at times, so if any reader ever needs to talk, feel free to dm me on tumblr: huttslut.

Chalmun's Cantina was a tavern on the corner of Eisley Street and Tatooine Avenue; it was also the location of Finn and Poe's publicized date night. They pulled into the parking lot in Poe's Mercedes at 5:00. Once he had the car parked, Poe turned the music down and turned his body toward Finn in the passenger seat.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. His curls had been tamed down with gel, and he was wearing his brown leather jacket.

Finn nodded. He was much calmer now than he had been earlier when he was trying to pick out an outfit. The entire ordeal had consisted of several panicked texts to Rey who had finally taken a break from work and called him on the phone to console him. Finally, he had chosen a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. It calmed him down to know that most people would be focusing on Poe in the photographs and not him.

When they had pulled into the parking lot, several photographers were already waiting for them having received Paige’s anonymous tip. Some of them were already snapping pictures of the two of them inside the car.

“Just ignore them,” Poe said, “Focus on me.”

Taking a deep breath, Finn followed the other man's lead and slipped out of the car. Flashes went off around him. A few reporters stepped forward, all calling for Poe. Instantly, Poe was at his side and slipping an arm around Finn's waist. For a moment, Finn froze. Poe was touching him. Poe would be able to feel how large Finn was.

Breathe, Finn reminded himself.

Arm secure around Finn, Poe steered him through the jumbled crowd of photographers and reporters. He flashed a few charming smiles, but otherwise ignored them. Finn followed his lead, practicing his breathing techniques. Inhale for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. And exhale for eight seconds. Distracted by the counting, Finn calmed down. They entered Chalmun's Cantina. Just like that, the encounter was over. What had felt like a moment of infinity to Finn had been mere minutes, and he had survived that stress.

It was a small accomplishment, but an accomplishment nonetheless. He mentally logged the situation, so he could tell Dr. Kalonia about it.

The tavern was dimly lit. The walls were covered in blinding neon signs advertising different varieties of beer. A smiling waiter greeted them and led them to a booth in the corner. The sharp scent of alcohol and fried food wafted around them as they took their seats and gave the waiter their drink orders: a beer for Poe and a water for Finn.

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” Poe asked, stripping his leather jacket off.

“No.”

Finn must've sounded unsure because Poe laughed, “It's an acquired taste. When I first started out, I was a nervous wreck around photographers.”

“You? Nervous?” Finn was incredulous. Nothing seemed to unnerve Poe. He was always so sure and confident in himself.

“Paige helped me through it,” said Poe, “She helped me through a lot of shit.”

When their drinks came, they placed their food orders. Mentioning a craving for greasy and unhealthy food, Poe ordered a plate of nachos and a burger. Finn ordered the same: a burger had never sounded so good.

“I thought Paige was just your publicist?”

“She was,” Poe explained, “but when I realized she saw me as more of a person than a paycheck, we became friends. She probably saved my life.”

Finn thought that was how he would describe Rey. Rey had saved his life. Without her, Finn had a feeling he would still be crashing headlong into bad decisions and toxic relationships. He would never have sought help, and he would never have met Poe Dameron.

It was funny how life was dictated by a series of chain reactions. There was no such thing as an isolated event. Life was not a linear progression of events. It was a jumbled mess of moments all affecting each other at different points in time. 

“What'd she do?” Finn asked. Part of him scolded himself for asking such a probing personal question, but Poe had seen him sobbing about his abusive relationships. Surely they had established a trusting rapport by now.

“It was right after the success of my first album,” answered Poe, nonplussed, “I was working nonstop, getting ready for a tour. There were a lot of rehearsals and practice. One day, my cousin called me. I was busy, so I didn't answer. But she didn't stop calling. Everyday, she would call, and as the days went on, she started calling multiple times a day. The calls became so frequent, I couldn't even glance at my phone without seeing her number appear. Finally, I answered just to make the phone stop ringing; it was driving me crazy.”

Their food came. Neither of them made a move to begin eating. Finn was transfixed with Poe's story, and he was afraid any movements on his part would break that fragile moment between them. The moment when Poe willingly shed his armor in front of Finn. It was brave and beautiful and reminded Finn of the night he had sobbed in Poe's arms on the front porch. Finn wondered if Poe thought he was brave and beautiful that night. He doubted it, but it was a nice fantasy. Peeling away his armor in front of Finn, Poe traced random patterns on the table with his finger. Even though he was staring back at Finn, Finn noticed how vacant and hollow his eyes were. How exposed he seemed.

“My cousin told me my dad was in the hospital. She said I needed to come visit him…but, like I said, things were hectic. I was at the height of my career. I couldn't just pause and fly out to visit my dad in the hospital. So… I didn't. I figured I would visit him once rehearsals were over. It was only a few days. She didn't call once after that. Just accepted my decision.

“Three days later, I was finally booking the flight home. And I got another call. Dad was dead. His heart killed him. Instead of booking a flight home to see him, I was booking a flight home for his funeral.”

“Poe,” Finn breathed, “I'm so sorry.”

Poe cleared his throat and shook his head. He even forced a small smile. “I was a wreck after that. I had been so selfish that I didn't even get to see my dad before he passed. So I did the only thing I could do: I drank. I drank so much, Finn. I lost days of my life after the funeral. I drank until I blacked out; then, I woke up and drank some more. It made me feel numb, and that was better than feeling the loss.”

“And Paige helped you come back from that?”

“Yeah. She made me feel the loss. It hurt, but it gave me closure.”

Instinctively, Finn reached around the plates of food and grabbed Poe's hand. He wondered if the world made as much sense to Poe as it did to Finn when their hands were intertwined. He hoped it did. “I'm so sorry, Poe.”

Poe gripped Finn's hand tight. “I'm better now, Finn.” He choked out a weak laugh. “We're supposed to be on a date, and I'm being a fucking downer, aren't I?”

“You've seen me in a pretty shitty place,” Finn said offering Poe a smile.

“Yeah.” Poe grinned back. “I have.”

He brought Finn's hand up to his lips and pressed a light kiss on his knuckles before releasing it. Finn felt his heart swell at the gesture.

Hearts were dangerous things, he realized. Poe's father had died from heart complications. Finn's own heart had been broken and mangled so many times in his past. Yet, there must be a resilient quality to the organ. Once again, his heart had expanded and made room for another person on its own accord. Somewhere along the way, his heart had made room for Poe, and Finn hadn't even properly registered that fact until Poe pressed a kiss to his hand in the dim light of Chalmun's Cantina.

Sobering up from his sadness, Poe changed the subject while Finn tried to ignore the way his knuckles seemed to tingle where Poe's lips had been. Instead, Finn tried to focus on the soothing sound of Poe's voice as Poe entered into what seemed to be his favorite type of conversation: asking Finn questions about himself. He asked Finn if he was reading anything new, how Rey was doing, how Luke was doing, had he looked into any other schools to attend, and what his plans were for the rest of the week. Just like that, the two of them were able to slip into a comfortable intimacy again.

Finn reveled in how attentive Poe was and how interested in his life he seemed. When Finn told him he was reading _Dracula_ , Poe asked Finn to compare the novel to some of its film adaptations. Which was the better interpretation? Could the two of them watch it together? Would Finn provide commentary for him? 

In return, Finn tried to create equally engaging questions. He asked Poe about the album’s progress. When he found himself itching to ask Poe about the inspiration for “Hot Minute,” he changed gears and quizzed Poe about his past in an effort to cheer him up from their earlier discussion. What were his favorite memories with his parents? How did his parents meet? For Finn, Poe was an open book. When Finn asked a question about his mother, he pulled on a chain around his neck and fished out a small ring.

“I carry this with me all the time. It was her wedding ring. One day, I'll find the right person for it,” said Poe, “After Dad died and Paige pulled me out of rock bottom, I made a promise to her that I'd open my heart up again. That I wouldn't emotionally shut down again. She wouldn't have wanted that for me.”

In return, Finn told Poe stories about growing up with Luke. How his father didn't trust the mail for the longest time and insisted on hand delivering parcels. How he would take Finn down to the deserts of Arizona during summer vacation because he wanted to show Finn cool snakes and lizards. How he had desperately tried to teach Finn a second language, but failed. He never blamed Finn for being unable to learn a language; in fact, he would go to great lengths to blame everyone and everything else. He blamed himself, Finn's previous teachers, even the ancient Rosetta Stone…. 

Laughter and playfulness returned to the two of them as they shared stories and ate their food. Poe would swipe fries from Finn's plate, and Finn would pretend not to notice. As payback, he dared Poe to eat a handful of habaneros from the plate of nachos and laughed at how beet red Poe's face turned. 

Once the redness had subsided from his face and he had finished gulping down Finn's water, Poe leaned across the table. His face was close to Finn's, and his voice was dangerously low.

“Finn, buddy?”

Finn couldn't even form words. Poe was so close he could lean forward and crash their lips together. In fact, he wanted to. He bit his lip. There was still a faint tinge of pink on Poe's face, which made Poe look even more kissable to Finn. They were a hairsbreadth apart. Finn could see the traces of stubble along Poe's jaw and could even count the shades of amber in Poe's eyes.

“You know what kinds of pictures the press would love?”

Finn shook his head. His mouth was dry. He felt dizzy. 

Poe smirked, “Have you ever been sucked off under a restaurant table?”

This time Finn did make a noise, a choking sound deep in his throat. He couldn't stop staring a Poe's lips, trying to process the obscenity that had fallen from them. His brain felt as though it had short-circuited. All his senses seemed acutely aware of Poe. His knuckles seemed to burn where Poe's lips had touched them earlier.

Then it was over. Poe had settled back into his seat and was laughing. “Shit, Finn, your face! That's for making me eat all those peppers!”

Finn felt like he could breathe again. Without thinking, he muttered, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Please,” scoffed Poe, but he had a toothy grin and his eyes crinkled, “you couldn't handle me.”

Underneath Poe's playful tone, Finn thought he could hear a plea in Poe's voice as though the other man was asking Finn for permission for something. He pushed that hopeful thought from his head. Poe was only teasing him.

“Besides,” Poe continued, “I'm a gentleman on first dates, Finn.”

* * *

 

Once they finished their meal, the two of them found themselves on a bench in the park across the street. Poe hadn't wanted to go back to the house yet, and the paparazzi had grown bored waiting for them to exit the tavern and left the area. Free from cameras and prying eyes, Finn and Poe walked around the park, holding hands and laughing before retiring on a bench.

In the park, the wind rustled the leaves in the trees. The autumnal night was crisp and chilly. Finn shivered.

Poe looked over at him and frowned. “Are you cold?” 

“I'm fine,” Finn insisted. He didn’t want to go back home yet. The night was tranquil, and Finn felt at peace on the park bench with Poe.

Ignoring his protests, Poe stripped off his leather jacket and threw it over Finn's shoulders. Finn couldn't help but smile. The jacket was warm and smelled like Poe.

“I would call that a successful first date,” Poe said.

“Eh,” joked Finn, “I guess it reaches the top ten list.”

Poe feigned offense. “Excuse you. I'm fucking charming.”

Poe's arm found its way around Finn's waist, and Finn leaned into the touch. He liked it when Poe touched him and held him. It felt natural.

Finn nuzzled into Poe. “Gentlemen don't swear on first dates.”

“No,” Poe hummed, “I guess they don't.”

Poe was warm, so Finn nestled in close to that warmth. All his doubts and concerns had dissipated into the night. He could focus solely on how Poe felt beside him, calm and warm and alive. It felt as though Finn was drowning in the sun, and he wanted nothing more than to completely submerge himself.

Finn was drifting. 

“Did you fall asleep, buddy?” Poe's voice sounded far away. “Finn?”

Finn tried to answer him, but all he could do was mumble incoherently. He wasn't sleeping. He was simply reveling in the warmth of Poe's body.

But he must've fallen asleep at some point because he dreamt of Poe kissing his forehead. And in the dream, Poe muttered against his skin, “God, Finn, you're fucking perfect.”

It had to be a dream. How could it not be?


	9. "...Which is a Tenderness."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The minutes faded into each other, and Finn lost track of how long he stood there enjoying Poe's embrace. Finn felt grounded. Some part of him still wanted to apologize. In another lifetime, he might have laid nothing but apologies at Poe's feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wonderful comments and support for this fic.
> 
> Trigger warning in this chapter for mentions of past abuse.
> 
> The poem repeatedly quoted in this fic is Richard Siken's "Snow and Dirty Rain." It is from his collection Crush, which heavily influenced this fic.

The photographs from their date at Chalmun's Cantina circulated throughout the Internet in the following days. Not wanting to browse the comments and encounter any nasty fans, Finn had Rey summarize the comments to him over the phone. There were upset fans, jealous fans, fans harassing Poe over his album release, and fans who were arguing with others about “real music.” Finn felt both flattered and confused at the commenters who gushed over his appearance. Why would they compliment him when he was standing next to someone as attractive as Poe Dameron?

Besides the comments, Finn had another issue weighing heavily in his mind. In order to clear his head, while Poe was at the studio, he texted Rose and organized a playdate for Fathier and BB-8. It was hard to believe just a week ago he had been in the same park, cuddled up to Poe on the bench. Now he felt guilty over the memory. Poe was clearly interested in someone else, and Finn felt he was taking advantage of the other man's friendliness. Yet, when Finn thought about Poe, he felt giddy, and he desperately wanted to hold onto that feeling.

Their relationship might not be real, but those feelings inside Finn were. Was it so wrong for him to bask in what he hadn't felt in a long time?

“Finn, you've been miserable for so long,” Rey told him when he voiced his concerns to her. “Let yourself be happy for once.”

That was easier said than done. Finn's new medication definitely helped manage his intrusive thoughts and his overreactions to the thoughts. He knew Dr. Kalonia said that recovery was a process, but it was a frightening process. Would he still be the same Finn at the end of the journey? Would he be a stranger to everyone including himself? Which version of him was the better Finn?

Finn never spoke to Rey about his uncertainties regarding recovery. Rey was always sure of herself and adamant about what she believed Finn deserved. He didn't want to disappoint his best friend. Rose was easier to talk to about these issues. She understood fear and anxiety in a way Rey never could. Rey was fearless and stronger than Finn could ever hope to be.

“I wouldn't worry,” Rose assured him. She was sitting in the shade of giant willow tree in the park. Its long leafy tendrils drooped and kissed the grass. When the autumnal breeze rustled the foliage, the tree appeared to come to life, the leaves swaying in a harmonious dance. It reminded Finn of Poe's dancing the afternoon by the pool. How natural the motions seemed. The fluidity of the act.

Finn was pacing under the towering willow, glancing over to where Fathier and BB-8 were playing, both dogs basking in the sunshine. The dogs rolled around and wrestled in the grass, which was comical to watch considering Fathier was an English mastiff and massive compared to the tiny, yipping corgi. However, Fathier was gentle with the other dog during their play as though he was aware of the size difference.

“I can't help it,” muttered Finn, “Worrying is my natural state.”

Whenever Finn worried, he usually cracked open a book to distract himself. At the moment, he was between books having finished _Dracula_ , but he longed for the Gothic novel to be in his hands anyway. Life would be easier if he took a page from the vampire’s book and lived alone in a castle. He would never have to worry about his appearance because he wouldn't have a reflection. Even better, when he wanted to escape a situation, he could materialize into a swarm of bats. It was the ideal life.

“Recovery is worth it,” Rose said, “If I hadn't gone to therapy, I would never have had the courage to talk to you—let alone going to the park with you.”

“I don't want to be a stranger to myself,” Finn admitted softly. He wanted to get better, but he also wanted to be authentic.

“You won't be. Therapy isn't going to change who you are. It's only going to help you cope and allow you to feel more comfortable with yourself.”

“I guess.” Ceasing his pacing, Finn collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the tree next to Rose. The grass tickled his palms.

A few weeks ago, Finn probably would've hesitated to sit anywhere near Rose. She was a petite young woman, and Finn would have felt monstrous next to her. But he didn't. Even though she was small, Rose exuded a strength and presence that Finn could never achieve.

“What else is wrong?” Rose asked, which was something else amazing about her. She was intuitive, almost as if she could see and sense things that others couldn't.

Finn thought of the real reason he had needed to clear his head.

“My dad,” he said finally, “wants to meet my boyfriend.”

Rose's face lit up. Her cheeks dimpled, and her face flushed pink with excitement. Finn hadn't told her his boyfriend was the famous musician Poe Dameron nor did he tell her it was a fake relationship. “That's wonderful! Why are you nervous? He'll like Poe. Heck, _I_ like Poe, and I've never even met him.”

“How can you like someone you've never met?”

“Because he makes you happy, Finn, and you're my friend now. You told me about some of your past relationships, and I'm glad you finally have someone who treats you the way you deserve. Your dad will be able to see that.”

That was exactly what Finn was afraid of. His dad, while eccentric, was as intuitive as Rose sometimes. He didn't want Luke to see that the relationship was a lie. He didn't want his dad disappointed that Finn had lied to him.

Finn could take Slip's abuse again. He could take being shoved through a glass sliding door. He could take going to the hospital to have glass pulled from his skin. He could take having the deep gashes in his back and shoulder stitched up. Finn couldn't handle causing anyone disappointment. Not Rey. Not Luke. Not Poe.

“Just ask Poe to meet your dad.”

“Why do you meet the other's parents when the relationship is going well?” asked Finn. “Isn't that more like a punishment?”

Rose giggled, “You must be a masochist, Finn, because you and I have very different notions on what punishment is.”

“You'd be scared to introduce your significant other to your parents!”

“Well, yes…but that's because they're dead,” Rose explained slowly, “While it wouldn't be the worse date I've been on, I don't think I would get a second one.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“It's okay. My older sister raised me. My parents died when I was young. I miss them, but I don't let it influence how I live my life. We have to live to fight another day to honor those who can't.”

Finn smiled. Rose's words were beautiful and true. Finn wished he could articulate his thoughts the way she did.

With Fathier and BB-8 napping together in the sunlight, Finn and Rose left the solemn subject behind and found themselves sharing stories of their worst dates. Finn recounted the time he had a date for a Halloween party, but his date had a kink for costumes and wouldn't let Finn take off his mask the entire night. Eventually, Finn had to sneak away to take off his mask, so he could properly have a panic attack. He didn't return to the party. Meanwhile, Rose talked about some hotshot she dated who took her gambling.

“The more he drank, the more belligerent he became. Started screaming at the horses. Eventually security came to remove him. He punched security, and they threw him in jail.” Rose shrugged, her face red from laughter. “Nobody clapped, but I really wish I would’ve paid some of them to.”

Finn felt a stitch in his side from laughing. “It wouldn't have mattered. No one would have believed it. People never clap.”

“People don't need validation for their lives in the form of applause.”

Finn thought about Poe. He didn't seem to care whether people liked him or not. Paige cared about his image because she didn't want his image to affect his success. Poe was confident in his image and his abilities. Finn wondered what that felt like.

He would figure that out. That was what he wanted from his recovery.

* * *

 

Finn returned home with BB-8. Once again, he was racked with nerves. He could remember the night on the front porch when Poe told Finn he would be glad to meet his dad. Now that Luke was back from the United Kingdom, the daunting prospect was real, and Finn felt anxious, hoping Poe would keep his promise.

He entered the house and was immediately caught off guard when a figure ran toward him and wrapped him in a crushing hug. The smell of cigarettes and cologne alerted Finn that it was Poe. Poe's arms were around his waist, and his head was buried in Finn's neck. Finn was lifted from his feet as Poe spun him around. BB-8 barked at the two of them.

“I missed you too?” said Finn with a breathy laugh when Poe placed him back on the ground.

He was no longer pressed against Finn, but he kept his hands on Finn's waist. Poe's eyes were gleaming in the same way sunshine danced upon glass, and they were crinkled. “Finn, buddy! The album is finished! We are having an official wrap-up party next week.”

Poe's happiness was contagious. Without thinking, Finn wrapped an arm around Poe's neck and pulled him close again. “Congrats.”

“I can't wait for you to hear it,” Poe breathed against his skin.

“Any songs for me?” teased Finn. Obviously, Poe would tell the public songs were about him even if it was all just a lie.

Poe pulled away, looking into Finn's eyes with a coy smile. “Guess you'll have to wait and see.”

Finn's body felt like it was yearning for Poe as the other man stepped away and turned his attention to BB-8, affectionately asking the corgi what he had done all day with Finn. BB-8 jumped against Poe until Poe picked him up, letting the dog leave sloppy kisses on his cheek.

“How was your day?” asked Poe, carrying BB-8 into the living room and flopping onto the couch.

Finn felt frozen. In his happiness for Poe, he had almost forgotten the request. He wanted to go back to the moment when they were tangled up in each other. When Finn couldn't think of anything except for how Poe's body felt wrapped around him.

Taking a deep breath, Finn stammered out, “D-do you want to meet my dad?”

Poe raised a questioning brow. “Do you want me to meet your dad?”

Finn shook his head frantically, feeling foolish. “No. Never mind, it's no big de—”

Poe let BB-8 crawl out of his lap. In seconds, he was standing in front of Finn and embracing him, one arm around his waist and one cupping the back of his head. “Breathe, Finn.” Nodding, Finn relaxed in Poe's arms and practiced his breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. “Finn, if you want me to meet your dad, I would love to. Don't feel obligated. I want you to be happy, okay?”

“S-sorry I sprung it on you,” muttered Finn.

“You never need to apologize to me, buddy.”

The minutes faded into each other, and Finn lost track of how long he stood there enjoying Poe's embrace. Finn felt grounded. Some part of him still wanted to apologize. In another lifetime, he might have laid nothing but apologies at Poe's feet.

_I'm sorry you have to deal with me._

_I'm sorry I am going to ruin you._

_I'm sorry that I destroy everything I touch._

Finn didn't have an urge to say any of these things. Instead he whispered, “You make me feel whole.”

Poe didn't respond, but he did hold Finn tighter.

* * *

 

The rest of the night was calm. Poe made Finn dinner, and the two curled up on the couch together to watch _Bram Stoker's Dracula_ featuring Gary Oldman, Keanu Reeves, and Winona Ryder. Even though no one was around, Poe sprawled across Finn's lap, one arm wrapped loosely around his neck. Finn didn't think about how small Poe was in his arms. With an arm around his waist, Finn thought about how Poe felt like a perfect complement for Finn. _You make me feel whole._

Poe also distracted Finn from his intrusive thoughts. Poe questioned Finn incessantly, encouraging him to point out moments of discrepancy between the film and the novel. They giggled over what Poe deemed the “ass bun head” of Gary Oldman as Dracula. They chattered about how extra all the characters were: from Dracula's dedication to his aesthetic to Jonathan's experience with the vampire orgy.

When the movie was over, the two of them bade each other good night. Finn remained in the living room while Poe went upstairs to his bedroom. Pulling out his phone, Finn dialed up his dad.

“And here I thought my son had forgotten me,” greeted Luke.

“Sorry, Dad,” mumbled Finn, “I had to check with Poe if he was available for dinner.”

“Did you have to travel across the galaxy to ask him?”

Finn groaned. “You're being a little dramatic.”

“Finn, I am disappointed in you,” said Luke, “You know I'm not a _little_ dramatic. I am very dramatic.”

“Yeah, I know,” laughed Finn. “You were always disappearing to travel. My teachers thought you were a cryptid.”

“They were trips for my scholarly work, and I always invited you.”

“Flying scares me,” Finn reminded his father. He had been on a plane a few times to travel with Luke, and each trip there had been lots of turbulence. Finn's anxiety couldn't handle that.

“There will be no need for planes Friday night. You can drive over,” said Luke, “I still have your room the way you left it if you two choose to spend the night.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting lonely in your old age.”

Luke laughed. “Get some sleep, kid.”

Hanging up the phone, Finn retired to his bedroom. Exhaustion settled in his bones and made his body feel heavy. Laying in bed, he thought about the poem Poe had recommended to him. He had finally looked it up in its entirety. The lines ran through his head:

 _"...and this is the map of my heart, the landscape_  
_after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is_  
_a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me_  
_tight, it's getting cold. We have not touched the stars,_  
_nor are we forgiven, which brings us back_  
_to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes,_  
_not from the absence of violence, but despite_  
_the abundance of it. The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,_  
_the gold light falling backward through the glass_  
_of every room. I'll give you my heart to make a place_  
_for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger._  
_Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars_  
_for you? That I would take you there?"_

The landscape after cruelty is a garden. Finn loved that line. Gardens were full of life and growth and opportunity. When Finn thought of the landscape after cruelty, he thought of the future months laid out before him with Poe.

Finn wondered if Poe felt as deep of a connection with the poem's words as Finn did.

_We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want…. We are all going forward. None of us are going back._

 


	10. Under the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wondered what he would be like when this arrangement between them was over. When he was Finn without Poe. Would he continue to glow? Would he collapse into himself like a dying star? Or would his body grow cold, a frigid shell of what it used to be?

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Finn woke Poe for their drive to his dad's place. Luke lived in southeastern California, not far from the famed Salton Sea, an inland lake that had been branded a miracle in the desert. Ever since Luke adopted Finn, the area had been his home. He could remember Luke taking him on trips to the lake where the two scavenged around the apocalyptic wasteland that was the Salton Riviera—what had once been a thriving resort destination. When Luke took Finn there, the lake was drying up: the resort had been abandoned, fragmented fish skeletons covered the sand, and dilapidated boats rusted around the lake. What had once been a blue gem in the desert was a graveyard filled with bones, sludge, and graffiti.

As he grew older, Finn didn't mourn the loss of the Salton Sea the way Luke did. After all, he hadn't been alive in its heyday. Instead, Finn sympathized with the tiny ecosystem that had been left for dead. Human activity had destroyed the lake. The nature of humanity was destruction. Finn knew that better than anyone.

Bleary-eyed and yawning, Poe grabbed his bag and followed Finn outside to the Trans Am with BB-8 pattering behind them. Poe was wearing a pair of bright orange sweatpants and an old shirt with the word ‘RESIST' boldly printed on it. He offered Finn a tired smile before folding himself into the car. BB-8 jumped in after him and curled up on his lap.

“Nice jacket,” Poe teased when Finn slipped into the driver's seat.

Finn looked down and blushed. He was wearing the jacket Poe had given him that night in the park. Even though time had passed, Poe's scent still clung to the jacket—even if it was now faint. Finn moved to take the jacket off, but Poe laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“Don't,” he murmured. “It suits you.”

“But it's yours,” Finn said lamely.

“I have loads of jackets. I think I can spare one for my boyfriend.”

Finn smiled. Boyfriend. The way the word had rolled off Poe's tongue sounded so natural as though what was between them was real.

“Thanks,” Finn said, “I—uh, never had a boyfriend give me gifts before.”

Poe's jaw clenched slightly. Finn mentally chided himself for saying something so pathetic (even if it was the truth). His boyfriends had rarely given him presents, always forgetting his birthday or some important anniversary. Eventually, Finn stopped expecting gifts. He didn't deserve them.

Yet, here was Poe giving him a jacket. Finn felt dizzy. Then Poe was leaning over the center console, and his lips were on Finn's cheek. The peck was quick and barely there, but it was as if that second stretched into infinity. Finn's cheek seemed to burn as though his body was desperately trying to leave him some evidence of what happened.

“You deserve better,” Poe said, settling back comfortably into the seat.

Finn didn't dare glance over at the other man. His mind was filled with images of Poe's lips, and he didn't want to do something reckless like kiss Poe back. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his hands on the steering wheel as he backed out of the driveway instead of touching his cheek where Poe had kissed him. Where his cheek tingled with the vestiges of the kiss.

When he finally glanced over to Poe again, they were out of the neighborhood. Poe had fallen asleep, lips slightly parted. Instead of the radio, Finn listened to the soft breaths issuing from Poe and the pitter-patter of his own heart. He felt restless, his body thrumming with a wild energy for which he had no outlet.

While Finn drove, the dawning light of the sun continued to trickle over the horizon, vibrant oranges kissing the California ground. As the sun rose higher and higher, Finn slid a pair of sunglasses on to see through the blinding glare.

From Los Angeles to Luke's house was a three hour drive. Finn hadn't wanted to spend the night, but he also didn't want to drive back in the same day. When Finn was alone with his thoughts for too long, he tended to dwell on the negativity of his life. On Slip and what the man had done to him. On his body and how he didn't feel right in it. On the inevitability that he would break those around him.

Dr. Kalonia's voice entered his head, telling him to take those maladaptive thoughts and find an alternative.

His mind flitted to Poe, still sleeping in the passenger seat. Poe told Finn he didn't deserve the abuse his previous boyfriends inflicted on him. Poe listened to Finn when he talked. Poe kissed Finn's cheek and held his hand. Poe gave him his jacket and said it suited him. Poe touched Finn, and when he did, Finn would feel his body light up like there was a sunrise beneath his skin that hadn't existed until now.

He wondered what he would be like when this arrangement between them was over. When he was Finn without Poe. Would he continue to glow? Would he collapse into himself like a dying star? Or would his body grow cold, a frigid shell of what it used to be?

Pushing those nagging doubts in his head away, Finn reached out and turned the radio on to low volume, not wanting to wake Poe. Poe had this inexplicable talent of being able to tell when something was wrong with Finn, but Finn didn't want to talk; he simply wanted a distraction. He wished he had checked out those audio books that Luke had gifted him last year, but he never drove long enough to justify listening to one. When Finn experienced books, he wanted full immersion—not simply a chapter.

“You're listening to Alliance Radio,” the radio announcer said, “We have a treat for you this morning. Last night, at midnight, Poe Dameron released a brand new single from his upcoming album. It's called ‘Seeing Blind.’ Enjoy.”

Poe's voice flooded the speaker's in the Trans Am, soft and melodic and raw with emotion. His voice was accompanied with an acoustic guitar’s lively tempo.

 _"I have seen, seen it all in paper dreams_  
_Watched it unfold on the screen_  
_But I never understood_  
_I have heard, have heard you speak a million words_  
_Now you're talking to me first_  
_Never thought you would_  
_Oh, my, my, you just took me by surprise_  
_And I can't believe my eyes_  
_Oh, I must be seeing blind_  
_Oh no, now you're too good to be all mine_  
_Now I'm looking in your eyes_  
_Oh, I must be seeing blind_  
_When I was young, my heart was always on the run_  
_But you make lovin' fun_  
_I never knew it could be_  
_I see you from a different point of view_  
_I feel it's too good to be true_  
_I found my missing piece_  
_Oh, my, my, you just took me by surprise_  
_And I can't believe my eyes_  
_Oh, I must be seeing blind_  
_Oh no, now you're too good to be all mine_  
_Now I'm looking in your eyes_  
_Oh, I must be seeing blind."_

The song was haunting. The lyrics swam in Finn's head, and he thought how Poe had said he wanted his music to tell a story of his life. Listening to the song unfold was like opening Poe’s heart. The heart which was clearly set on someone who wasn't Finn.

Seeing blind. That phrase, to Finn, was what body dysmorphia felt like. It was both seeing and being blind to what his body was. Seeing blind. That phrase, to Poe, was about a love that didn't include Finn in its vision. Poe's songs always seemed to break Finn's heart.

As the song faded out, he switched off the radio, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. He didn't know why he was upset. What he and Poe had was fake. It was all smoke and mirrors.

What would Finn be when the smoke dissipated and the mirrors shattered?

* * *

 

Poe slept for the majority of the drive, but BB-8 woke up two hours into the trip. Climbing out of Poe's lap, the corgi did his best to investigate the Trans Am, wobbling around from the unsteady movement of the vehicle. Feeling restless, Finn chose to make an impromptu stop at the Salton Sea. He could stretch his legs, and the corgi could go to the bathroom. He pulled over on the side of the road, and BB-8 hopped out of the car, waddling after Finn.

The shrunken lake glittered in the light of the risen sun, and the murky waters lapped at the shoreline. It was much warmer by the lake than it was in Los Angeles. Still, Finn kept Poe's jacket on; it was comforting. He felt safe and secure in the jacket. Safe and secure in the midst of decay.

The Salton Riviera, or what was left of it, was nestled in a valley, surrounded by rocky hills. Some of the ground leading to the water was dry and cracked. Closer to the water was a small shore comprised of sand, shells, and animal bone fragments. In some spots, sludge caked the shore; in others, abandoned waste and rubbish piled up—the only evidence that this place once nurtured life.

Finn watched BB-8 frolic in the water, barking excitedly. The dog didn't realize this place had once been a bustling resort so full of life. Finn felt an aching in his chest; he knew what abandonment felt like. He also knew that abandonment would be the conclusion to his relationship with Poe.

The more Finn thought about the song, the more he felt guilty for playing the role of Poe's boyfriend. He knew Poe was keeping him around out of pity, and Finn liked to think he deserved better than that. He didn't want Poe keeping him around out of obligation. After the trip, Finn would talk to Paige and explain that he couldn't do it anymore. As long as he honored the non-disclosure agreement, he couldn't see a problem with terminating the contract early. In fact, Poe told Finn he could leave whenever he wanted.

He heard sand and shells crunching behind him. Then, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around his middle. Poe was warm and sturdy, and Finn desperately wanted to melt against the other man. Poe rested his chin on Finn's shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice still raspy from his sleep.

Finn nodded. Ignoring the constricting feeling in his throat, Finn said, “I heard your new song on the radio.”

Poe's grip around Finn tightened slightly. “Shit.”

Finn felt his heart fall into his stomach, and he steeled himself for the news about the mystery man.

“I was hoping you wouldn't hear it,” Poe said, “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to play it for you when we got home again.”

Home. Growing up in the foster system, home had always been a foreign word for Finn. Even after he was adopted, Finn kept his bag packed, afraid that Luke would stop wanting him and send him back. Luke kept him, though. To compensate for never having a home, Finn started making his home in other people, hoping to root himself firmly in another’s heart.

“Why?”

“Because I want to play all my songs for you.” Poe turned his head and pressed a kiss to Finn's jaw. It was light and almost hesitant. The stubble on Poe's jaw scratched Finn's skin, a reminder that this moment wasn't a dream.

Finn could hear Dr. Kalonia's voice nagging him to ask Poe about who he was writing his songs for, but Finn couldn't will himself to do it. In Poe's embrace, Finn felt whole. He felt wanted and safe. It was this mindset that encouraged him to stay in all his previous relationships; he would take the pain and heartache just to feel like he mattered to someone.

“You can still play it for me,” Finn whispered, “when we get home.”

Poe loosened his grip on Finn and turned him around, so they were facing each other. He reached up and cupped Finn's face in his hands, gently, as though Finn might shatter beneath his touch. Carefully, Poe leaned forward and placed a kiss on Finn’s forehead. Then, he took his hands away and wrapped them around Finn's neck.

“Put your hands on my hips.”

“What?”

“I'll sing it for you now,” said Poe.

Finn acquiesced, placing his hands on Poe's hips. For once, he didn't think his hands were capable of crushing Poe. Instead of thinking, Finn lost himself in Poe's eyes. The swirling brown and amber of his eyes reminded Finn of the early morning sunrise. His irises were painted in all the colors of their experience. They were the color of spiced rum, warm coffee, and early mornings.

Soon, they were swaying back and forth, the sand crunching beneath them. The waters of the Salton Sea slapped at nearby rocks, and they could hear BB-8 still splashing around in the lake. Despite all the noise, Finn could hear Poe's soft singing, a secret for just the two of them.

Even when Poe stopped serenading him, they continued to sway, the movement of their bodies synchronizing to the rhythm of the tide.

The spell was broken by Poe. “I should probably change.”

“Why?”

Poe glanced down at his vibrant orange sweatpants. “I can't meet your dad in this. First impressions count, Finn.”

Finn snorted. “If that was the case, I would never have taken this job.”

Poe blushed. “I was a bit…much, wasn't I?”

“You were a diva! Strutting around the house.”

“I don't strut!”

“You do, and you did.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Poe buried his face in Finn's neck, still swaying on the shore. “You're dating this primadonna.”

“Too bad you have to pay me to date you,” Finn joked.

“ _Paige_ pays you,” corrected Poe. “Besides, this is much easier than the dating scene. I'm too old to be on those dating sites, having to browse through all the dick pics.”

“What kind of dating sites are you on?”

“As if I would tell you,” scoffed Poe, “You'd be leaving me in a second. Going off on a big dick expedition.”

“That the name of your new song? Has a nice ring to it.”

Poe's breath tickled Finn's neck as he laughed, but Finn didn't pull away. When he was pressed against Poe, the world made sense. The static noise in his head—his anxieties and fears—was finally silenced. Finn didn't feel like a jumbled mess of pieces around Poe; he felt whole.

Finn wondered if Luke would be able to notice the difference in him. Would he be able recognize the façade that was their relationship? Snap and Karé believed the lie; they didn't even question that Finn was dating famous musician Poe Dameron. The press didn't question it.

Finn and Poe were either the best actors or the best liars in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and feedback and kudos. You can always talk to me on my tumblr: huttslut.
> 
> As it stands, we are about halfway through the story. I am planning for it to be anywhere from 16 to 20 chapters.
> 
> The song "Seeing Blind" is by Niall Horan. The next song Poe will perform in the story is one sung by Oscar Isaac.


	11. Tragedy of the Human Condition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he didn't leave this pretend relationship soon, he was sure he would lose himself in it. Sometimes, Finn forgot that Poe wasn't really his boyfriend with the way the other man embraced him or kissed him. Or held his hand as if the world were crashing around them and Finn was his lifeline.

The homestead swam into view. In typical southwestern architecture style, the house was asymmetrical with stone and stucco walls and a low-pitched tile roof the same color as the dry hills that had surrounded the Salton Sea. For the most part, the house looked the same as it was in Finn's memory; the only difference was the vast amount of landscaping work that had been done.

The grassy lawn, a verdant green thanks to the irrigation from the sprinklers, was lined with flowering bushes: purple ruellia, bright orange Barbados pride, and meticulously trimmed hopseed bushes. Vibrant fuchsia bougainvillea towered beside the door to the house. In the midst of the desert garden, the lawn was also ornamented with a stone bird fountain and a cushioned bench swing upon which Finn spotted his dad.

Poe turned to Finn after he guided the Trans Am into the driveway. His eyes were wide. “How do I look?”

Finn stared at him in disbelief. Poe Dameron, who had until Finn's arrival been the most sought after bachelor, was fretting about his appearance in the wake of meeting Luke Skywalker. Humoring him, Finn reached over and pushed a stray curl from dangling in front of his face. “You look fine, Poe.”

“I just want to make a good impression.”

Finn rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Trying to look good to impress my dad? Should I give you two some alone time, or—?”

“I just want to look like I deserve you, Finn,” Poe said softly.

That was how Finn felt whenever Paige's photographers were surrounding him. _I want to look like I deserve you._ To quell both their nerves, Finn leaned over and boldly placed a light kiss on Poe's cheek. Beneath Finn's lips, Poe's skin was warm and sun-kissed with a scintilla of perspiration that had dripped from his temple (Finn still hadn't fixed the air conditioning in his car) and left a salty taste on his cheek.

“You look like you deserve even better,” muttered Finn and stepped out of the car.

Due to the unbearable heat in the enclosed space, Finn had stripped off Poe's jacket; back out in the open, Finn felt exposed for some strange reason. Despite the sweltering desert air, Finn felt the urge to throw the jacket back on and envelop himself in the comforting scent of Poe.

Poe followed Finn's lead, clambering out of the car and letting BB-8 jump out from the passenger seat as well. The corgi barked happily and skipped into the grass, noticing a finch nearby and chasing after the bird. Instead of following the corgi into the yard where Luke was, Poe rounded over to the other side of the car to plant himself in front of Finn.

“What do you mean that I deserve better?” asked Poe lowly, dark brows knitted in confusion.

Finn shrugged.

Poe reached out and cupped Finn's head in his hands just as he had earlier when they danced together in the wreckage of the Salton Riviera. “Finn,” he said, eyes glittering like sand in the sun, “you're the best.”

Then Poe's arms were tight around his waist, and Finn succumbed to the embrace, collapsing against Poe. Even if it was just for a moment, it was nice to let himself feel vulnerable around Poe, which seemed to be becoming a routine. Finn would fall into Poe, and Poe would catch him without hesitation. Who would catch him after this was over between them? He didn't think he was strong enough to stand alone. He wasn't sure he wanted to stand alone.

BB-8's playful barks tore them both from the serenity of the moment. Pulling apart, Finn led the way to the bench swing where his dad sat. Poe followed, reaching out to grab Finn's hand and lacing their fingers together. With Poe holding his hand, Finn didn't feel as nervous. With Poe holding his hand, Finn didn't feel that their relationship was a lie. It felt real. Finn felt whole.

Luke rose from the bench swing and greeted them in the middle of the lawn, throwing his arms around Finn and pulling him into a hug. “The prodigal son returns.”

“Hey, Dad.” Finn hugged him back with his free arm. “How was your trip?”

“Dreary,” said Luke, “No wonder Heathcliff was miserable considering the weather in northern England.”

Finn chuckled, “Weather-based literary criticism? That sounds valid.”

Luke shrugged. “Are any schools of literary criticism valid, Finn? Most discussions end up being an argument about whether Emily Dickinson was a lesbian or how insufferable Thoreau was.”

“Dad,” Finn said, knowing he would blather on about literature all day if given the chance. “This is Poe. My boyfriend.”

“Sir,” greeted Poe, holding out his free hand to shake Luke's.

Luke stared of the proffered hand, face stony and unreadable. “So you're the boyfriend. The tabloids tell me you're trouble.”

Finn opened his mouth to interject on Poe's behalf, but Poe was already responding, “No one makes money writing the truth.”

Luke’s face broke into a smile, and he ignored Poe's hand to pull the man into a hug. Finn could breathe again.

“Finn tells me you're a professor,” Poe said when Luke released him.

“Retired,” corrected Luke. “They throw me pension money every month to stay away, and I take it.”

Poe laughed, his eyes crinkling, “What do you do with all your free time?”

“Travel. Garden.” Luke gestured airily to the nearby hopseed bush. “Get ignored by my son.”

Finn groaned, “Dad, I've been busy.”

“I know. I know. You're all wrapped up in young love. I get it. No time for your old man.”

“You're not old,” said Finn.

“Too old to be of any use, and too young to die,” joked Luke. After a momentary pause, he broke from his reverie and gestured to the front door. “Finn, why don't you give Poe the tour? I will get lunch ready.”

Finn guided Poe into the house, and BB-8 followed them. The homestead wasn't extravagant the way Poe's expensive hilltop villa was. It was a simple single-floor ranch house. The house's foyer revealed an open-floor plan that comprised of the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the breakfast nook, which were all covered with finished brown cork flooring. Finn led Poe down a hallway off the dining room to where his old bedroom sat.

It was just as he had left it when he moved out. The twin bed was shoved in the corner of the room. A nearly barren bookshelf stood near the window, which showed a spectacular view of the backyard. Much like the front yard, it was decorated with a mosaic of colorful flowers.

“I was expecting some embarrassing posters, or something from your awkward teenage years,” said Poe, glancing around the room at the lackluster walls and simple furnishings.

“I never wanted to settle in,” admitted Finn with a nonchalant shrug, “I was always afraid Luke would send me back to the foster system, but…he never did.”

Poe squeezed Finn's hand. “I had Michael Jackson posters in my room. A few Freddie Mercury. Even had some David Bowie.”

“ _That's_ gay culture,” laughed Finn.

Poe snickered, “I spent many years jerking off to those posters to get my gay card, Finn. Show your elders some respect.”

Finn nearly choked on his laughter and immediately felt his face heat up. He did his best to ignore the creeping image of teenage Poe Dameron in his room, hand on his dick, as he got off to the images of his idols. Finn could picture Poe's lips parted, could imagine the obscene noises falling from those lips. He wondered what Poe would sound like moaning his name. Quickly, he banished the image, but the warmth in his cheeks lingered.

“I'm, uh—going to bring in our bags,” Finn said in a garbled rush, almost wincing at the squeakiness in his voice.

He tore out of the room and back outside. The southeastern California air was dry and felt more constricting than his bedroom had been. He needed to calm down. He needed to breathe.

Poe Dameron would be the death of him.

* * *

After Finn brought their bags in and Poe had finished taking BB-8 on a walk, the three of them settled around the dining room table for lunch, which comprised of burgers Luke had grilled. Finn missed his dad's cooking. In his retirement, Luke had thrown himself into a wide variety of hobbies from cooking to gardening. He told Finn he even started tinkering with an old car in his garage, trying to restore it to working condition.

“Rey would like that,” Finn told him. Rey was the only friend of his that his dad had met because she'd been around the longest. She was one constant in Finn's life. In the past years, she was his lifeline.

“You should bring her down to check it out. She's much better with that stuff than I am.” Luke glanced over at Poe. “What do you two do for fun?”

Finn bit his lip. What could he say? That he spent all his time working, pretending to be Poe's boyfriend. That he was still trying to recover from his past abusive relationships. That he was now in therapy struggling with body dysmorphia. He didn't want to disappoint his dad; he wanted Luke to be proud of him. Out of all the kids waiting to be adopted, Luke chose Finn; Finn didn't want Luke to grow to regret that choice.

Poe saved him. “We're boring. We stay inside like an old married couple.”

“You're too young to be as boring as me. Get out. Live a little. I always had trouble getting Finn to let loose. He was very serious as a teenager. I blame the foster system. It's like they try to turn kids into perfect robots to make them more marketable for adoption.”

“Finn is fun,” said Poe.

Finn felt grateful for that lie. He knew he really wasn't: he was a constant downer, head always stuck in the past and his heart always yearning for something he couldn't have and didn't deserve.

“Speaking of fun, they did build a new casino downtown,” said Luke, “Never had an excuse to go before…if you two are interested, we could go down tomorrow evening?”

“We were only gonna stay one night,” said Finn. He knew Poe wouldn't want to spend two days with him and his dad. He had other things to do. Other people to see….

“I can probably call Paige. The album is finished,” Poe said to Finn. “I'm sure it won't be a big deal.”

Finn's mouth was dry. “You don't have to.”

“Finn, budd— _babe_ , it's fine. I would rather be here with you.” To sell their relationship, Poe leaned over and kissed Finn's cheek.

His own heart was still fluttering. Poe called him babe. Poe kissed him. It was fake, and Finn knew he couldn't keep the charade going for as long as Paige wanted. Maybe he could enjoy the act while it lasted. Before they returned to reality back in Los Angeles. Before Finn contacted Paige to end the arrangement.

He would find another way to afford tuition. Already, he figured he had enough to take some general education courses at a community college. If he didn't leave this pretend relationship soon, he was sure he would lose himself in it. Sometimes, Finn forgot that Poe wasn't really his boyfriend with the way the other man embraced him or kissed him. Or held his hand as if the world were crashing around them and Finn was his lifeline.

When they had finished lunch, Finn set to work helping his dad wash dishes while Poe disappeared into Finn's bedroom to make a call to Paige. Finn was glad for the distraction as he submerged his hands in the scalding soapy water, focusing on scrubbing the remnants of food on the plates away.

“I like him,” Luke said.

“Me too,” replied Finn, finishing another plate and setting it in the drying rack.

“Are you two serious?”

Finn shrugged, feeling his heart clench in his chest. What was he supposed to say to that? That their relationship was a fabrication? That Finn found himself constantly wishing it wasn't?

“What's the shrug for? Finn, are you okay?”

Finn pulled his hands from the dishwater and dried them on a towel. His distraction was gone, and he was acutely aware of the tightness in his chest and his stomach. He stared down at the rag in his hands, fiddling with a loose string. “I don't know,” he admitted softly.

Luke frowned. “What's wrong? Does Poe treat you right?”

Memories flashed in Finn's mind. Their first photoshoot together where Poe embraced him hesitantly, asking Finn if it was okay. Their bodies toppling into the swimming pool. Poe holding him beneath the stars while Finn wept. Movie night where Finn had felt small and safe in Poe's lap. The morning after when they lay together in bed, whispering into the afternoon light. Swaying in rhythm to the lapping tide of the Salton Sea.

“He does,” whispered Finn, feeling tears in his eyes. Because that was the tragedy of their relationship. Poe was everything Finn had never had before.

Finn knew he fell into love too fast, and it always meant disaster. Colliding into Poe was the one thing Finn felt he had done right in his life.

Luke didn't ask Finn anything else. Instead, he wrapped his arms around him, and Finn clung to his father, letting the tears fall freely.

“I'm so scared, Dad,” cried Finn.

“It's okay to be scared, Finn. Just so you know, that boy looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. I don't think you need to be afraid.”

As quickly as the tears appeared, they dissipated. Finn found that his new medication made it harder for him to cry; when he did, it was always a short burst rather than a prolonged episode. Still, he remained in his dad's embrace.

“I missed you,” Finn whispered.

“Don't be a stranger, then. You're my son, Finn. I don't care when you stop by or in what condition. You're my son, and I will always be proud of you.”

Finn wanted to break down all over again, but he didn't have the energy. He was tired from the drive, tired of always falling apart, and tired of lying to the people he loved.

“Slip beat me,” he admitted without preamble. “He hurt me a lot, Dad. He put me in the hospital once. Even after I left him, I was still getting hurt. I kept letting my boyfriends hurt me. I just wanted them to love me, and they didn't. S-so I figured it must be me, right? Something about me broke people, and I was so sick of breaking everything.”

Luke didn't interrupt him, just held him.

“I'm in therapy now. I have this body dysmorphia and anxiety. A-and that's why I stopped visiting. I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Luke chided, “Finn, acknowledging our traumas and actively working to recover from them is the hardest thing anyone can do. Finn, I am so proud of you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the comments and feedback. You can also find me on tumblr (huttslut.tumblr.com).
> 
> I promise you all that the slow burn will pick up--especially the next chapter!


	12. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn knew that stars died. They imploded and eventually flickered out. They grew cold in death. But Finn felt alive against Poe. Starlight took millions of years to reach the earth; the ones in the sky above could already be dead. Maybe this was the same. Maybe Finn's body just hadn't received the message yet….

Once Finn settled down, and his sobs had ceased, allowing his breathing to return to normal, Luke urged him to rinse off in the shower and lay down for a bit. Wordlessly, Finn agreed; he didn't have the energy to resist. In no time, he found himself standing under the warm spray of the shower, recuperating. The mixture of moisture and steam seemed to numb his body and loosen his limbs until the tension of pent-up anxiety dissipated, evaporating around him. In the shower was a shampoo and conditioner that smelled like tea trees with a hint of mint, and Finn reveled in the relaxing aroma. Between the scents and the warm water, Finn felt like he was encased in a therapeutic cocoon.

He didn't even tremble as he ran his hands along his skin, practicing his exercises. In the shower, Finn always made himself confront his body: the ridges of his muscles, the protrusions of his bones, and the other expanses of skin that made up his body. He took a deep breath and felt the tautness of muscles in his abdomen, the flesh of his thighs, and the defined bones of his hips and ribs. Since he started these exercises, Finn found himself more comfortable with his body when he was alone.

When he was alone, no longer did he feel like a patchwork of parts dreamt up by Mary Shelley. Instead, his hands mapped the realities of his body. During these explorations, his body wasn't a mass of conflict. He wasn't a hulking figure or towering presence. In solitude, he was just Finn.

It was when he was around other people that he regarded himself as a monster. No amount of time in the shower exploring his body would help that. Comparison would always threaten his self-image. Maybe, he would one day be able to adapt to that. Maybe one day, those doubts about his body would be nothing more than echoes in his head. Maybe the conflict would abate, and he could soldier on into a life that wasn't dictated by paranoia about his body. That paranoia would always be a facet of his life, he knew, but maybe it wouldn't be the focus of it.

With skin smelling of tea trees and muscles free of tension, Finn left the bathroom and rejoined his dad. Poe was still on the phone with Paige in Finn's bedroom, and Finn was glad that Poe hadn’t witnessed another of his breakdowns. He didn't want Poe to think of him as weak.

“Feeling better?” asked Luke, setting his book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, which was cluttered with newspaper clippings that Finn suspected were the beginnings of a conspiracy wall—even if his dad vehemently denied the label.

“A little,” Finn admitted.

His dad glanced out the window. “Sun is still up. Why don't you rest your eyes outside? You don't get fresh air like this in the city. No wonder everyone is depressed and has anxiety.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Next you'll be lecturing me on chemtrails.”

“I'm not a crazy conspirator.”

“Dad, you believe in Bigfoot.”

“No, Finn,” Luke levelled, “I _saw_ Bigfoot.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Never asked you to.” Luke shrugged. “But, Finn, sometimes you need to have a little bit of faith.”

Finn snorted, “In what? Cryptids?”

“In the things you can't see. In the impossible. Not everything can be proven with facts and data. There's too much damn chaos in the world for everything to follow a rational or logical course.”

“Careful, Dad,” Finn warned, “or the scholars will label you a heretic—sitting there and blaspheming the scientific method and peer-reviewed journals.”

“Let them,” muttered Luke. “What can they really do to an old hermit like me?”

“Dad, I'm really sorry—”

Luke held up his hand. “No more apologies, Finn. The past is the past. Focus on the future. On getting better.”

Finn nodded and let his dad guide him into the backyard where a cushioned recliner sat on the brick patio. The arid desert air and the glowing warmth of the sun was comforting, so Finn settled into the chair.

“I'll keep Poe company,” Luke told him. “Just rest.”

Finn closed his eyes and basked in the sun. Around him was the sweet fragrance of the bougainvillea, which was akin to honeysuckle. Underneath the floral aroma, Finn could smell dust and dry soil; if the desert sun had a scent, that would be it. Bees hummed in the yard, and birds sang to each other.

Finn wondered if nature had a sedative property because he could feel himself nodding off. His dad might not be entirely wrong about the city….

His dad's other words echoed in his tired mind: have faith in the impossible. Once upon a time, Finn would place his faith in other people. Sometimes it worked. Rey. Jess. Snap. Karé. But most times it didn't; Finn's dating record was a testament to that. It was an example of how fragile and precarious the notion of faith could be, and Finn broke fragile things.

He thought about Poe. Hadn't he placed his faith in the other man even though he knew their relationship was destined to end? Wasn't that the epitome of believing in impossible things?

* * *

 

Hours later, Finn awoke to a symphony of the desert night. The buzzing bees had been replaced with the mournful sonatas of the cicadas, and owls hooted haunting melodies into the crisp breeze, which rustled the flowers and bushes in the backyard. The autumnal breeze also played with the wind chimes along the patio, and the metal tinkled like a lullaby. It was a song tempting Finn to fall asleep again.

He wanted to succumb to sleep. His body still felt sluggish and unresponsive—his energy spent on yet another emotional breakdown. Falling apart was exhausting business and always left him with both mental and physical fatigue. Still, he couldn't will himself back to sleep: there was a warm pressure on his chest that distracted him.

It moved. Finn felt something wet touch his cheek, and his eyes snapped open, jolting him back into the waking world.

“BB-8, I told you not to wake him up,” admonished Poe.

Finn's eyes adjusted to the orange incandescent glow of the patio lanterns, spilling light across the patio amidst the darkness. On his chest sat the ginger corgi, staring at Finn with his tongue hanging out. He leaned forward and licked Finn again upon noticing he was awake.

Poe sat nearby on a patch of grass, phone in one hand and cigarette in the other. He smiled sheepishly at Finn. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Finn stretched out and sat up, patting BB-8 on the head. The corgi huffed in return, and jumped down from the recliner, annoyed that Finn was moving and sitting up. “How'd it go with Paige?”

Poe shrugged and exhaled a thin plume of smoke. “She wanted to get some pictures tomorrow to help create some buzz for the album, but we came to a compromise.”

“Which is?”

“She just wants me to get back on social media. Post some updates.” Poe held out his phone to Finn. “If this is okay with you?”

Finn looked at the phone. The screen showed an Instagram post, which was a picture of Finn sleeping on the patio with BB-8 curled up on his chest. The caption beneath the photo said, ‘My Favorite Boys,’ with several heart emojis.

Finn was speechless. His mouth felt dry. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Poe nodded, slid the phone back in his jacket pocket, and stubbed his cigarette out. “How are you feeling? You okay?”

Finn sat up, suddenly feeling alert. “Yeah. Why? Did my dad say something?”

“He said a lot of things,” said Poe, “I think he narrated his autobiography to me. And whenever he asked me questions, it felt like I was in some sort of philosophical discussion.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Finn laughed, “Did he tell you about the time he saw Bigfoot?”

“No. He talked a lot about his conflicted opinions on drones though. And his personal vendetta against the postal service.”

“Surprised you're still here.”

“A few conspiracy theories and you think I'll run for the hills?” asked Poe, raising an eyebrow. “I'm offended, Finn. Your dad made some very valid points.”

Finn's first instinct to apologize for his father dissipated. Poe always made him feel like he had nothing to apologize for. Slip always expected apologies. Poe didn't want any, and Finn was trying desperately to adjust to the change.

“Well,” drawled Finn, “as long as they were _valid_ points….”

“Very valid,” Poe said, “Educational, too. No wonder you're so smart, Finn.”

Finn flushed. He hoped Poe wouldn't notice in the low lights from the patio. “Thanks.”

“You don't have to thank me for the truth.”

Finn could hear his dad in his head, talking about the relativity of truth, from one of their many discussions over the years. He wanted to mention it to Poe, but he quashed that urge. Finn didn't need to try and refute Poe's compliments. Dr. Kalonia would want Finn to accept such compliments without argument. Maybe it would help him believe he deserved the compliments and praise. There was potential to flush out the doubts that constantly flooded his head. A ceasefire to the endless war between his thoughts.

“I want to thank you for being nice to me,” said Finn softly. “I'm not used to that.”

Poe patted the grass beside him. Without question, Finn slipped off the recliner and took a seat beside Poe who wrapped his arms around Finn's waist and laid his head on his shoulder. Poe smelled like nicotine and leather.

“I have a gift for you.” Poe released Finn and dug his phone out from his pocket. “I wanted to wait until everything came in the mail, but you seemed upset, and I want to cheer you up.”

Again, Finn stamped down his protests about why Poe didn't need to give him anything. Poe had already given Finn a job, a jacket, and the means to return to school to flesh out a future for himself. He also restored Finn's faith in impossible things. Poe made Finn feel whole. He didn't need to give Finn anything else, but Finn was always bad with words, so he didn't say any of this.

Poe handed Finn his phone.

“It's a star,” said Finn staring at the image of the star map on the screen.

“It's _your_ star,” corrected Poe, “It's named Finn.”

Finn felt dizzy. “Y-you named a star for me?”

“Remember when I told you about my mom? How she would tell me to look to the stars and I would find her there? Well, I wanted to get you a star, so you could look up and find me—or anyone else you wanted to think of. It doesn't have to be me!”

“You,” said Finn looking over at Poe whose face looked a little pink in the orange wash of light. “I want it to be you.”

“Yeah?” Poe's smile was toothy and lopsided.

Words floated through Finn's mind. Poe had named a star for him. Poe was gifting him a celestial object. The impossible.

Finn shook the words he could never articulate from his mind. He didn't want to think. Instead, he leaned over, closing the distance between them. Under the starlight, Finn pressed his lips to Poe's.

He'd meant it to be a quick peck—a split second occurrence that he could claim was platonic when Poe ultimately pulled away and rejected him. Poe's phone thumped loudly to the ground as it tumbled out of his hand, and then Poe's one hand was cupping Finn's cheek, his other firm and steady on Finn's shoulder, and Poe was pressing into the kiss.

He tasted like cool wisps of menthol, and Finn sighed against his lips. Kissing Poe felt like the most natural thing in the world, yet it also felt like an impossible hazy dream. Finn's body tingled; he felt safe and secure and whole. Vaguely, he wondered if this was what a star felt like: a swirl of burning heat collapsing in on itself over-and-over.

Finn knew that stars died. They imploded and eventually flickered out. They grew cold in death. But Finn felt alive against Poe. Starlight took millions of years to reach the earth; the ones in the sky above could already be dead. Maybe this was the same. Maybe Finn's body just hadn't received the message yet….

Finn pulled back a hairsbreadth distance from Poe's lips and whispered, “Thank you.”

Poe laid his forehead against Finn's and let out a shaky breath, “You don't have to thank me like this, buddy. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with.”

“I want to do this,” said Finn. _You named a star for me,_ Finn wanted to say. _You gave me the impossible._

Poe didn't respond. He made a little humming noise in the back of his throat and closed the distance between them again. His lips were soft against Finn's, and the kiss was tender. Chaste. Instinctively, Finn kissed him back, reaching out to fist the front of Poe's jacket as he pulled the other man closer to deepen the kiss.

It was overwhelming. Like a star, Finn’s body collapsed, burning up and alighting his veins with a fire whose smoke spelled out Poe's name. He could feel, in his core, the same tumultuous reactions that fueled the galaxy's stars.

Finn sighed against his lips again, and Poe's tongue slipped into his mouth, experimental and languid in its exploration. Finn responded, tightening his grip on Poe's jacket to keep his body from trembling lest he break the spell that settled between them.

He lost himself in the kiss even as his mind worked extensively in an attempt to catalog and remember every detail of Poe Dameron's lips against his. The way his tongue seemed to dance in Finn's mouth. The warm and wet expanse of Poe's mouth that Finn explored in return. The barely-audible breathy gasps that tumbled from Poe's lips. The feel of his fingers delicately stroking Finn's jaw.

Poe pulled away first and laid his forehead against Finn's. His breaths were ragged, and his lips looked red and swollen. Releasing Poe's jacket, Finn reached up and ran a finger across Poe's bottom lip. _I did that_ , he thought. _He looks perfect. I helped make something perfect._

“Finn, buddy,” breathed Poe, “are we really doing this?”

For once, Finn found he wasn't even searching for the right words. He didn't need to think about Slip or his vast knowledge of heartbreak. He didn't think of how vulnerable he felt sitting in Dr. Kalonia's office or the feel of the shower spray as he desperately tried to convince himself that he was okay. This was Poe. That was the only word Finn needed.

_We were in a gold room where everyone finally gets what they want._

Finn pressed a quick kiss to Poe's red lips.

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments, kudos, and patience. This chapter took so long, not only because of a stressful week, but because I really wanted this chapter and the first kiss to be perfect. Or close to perfect.
> 
> Let me know how it worked!


	13. In the Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn's body thrummed like before. He reached out to grab Poe's hips in order to anchor himself to this moment while the other man explored his mouth. If Finn was a star in moments such as these, then Poe was an astronomer desperately mapping him. If Finn was a sacred relic, then Poe was a devout worshiper, seeking to unlock the secrets of his faith.

“I kissed Poe.”

Even as he said the words, Finn's voice quivered. It was as though he wasn’t quite sure what he was saying. It was as if he wasn't quite sure the incident had happened at all. There was an ethereal quality to the memory. Finn did his best to grasp the fuzzy memory in a desperate attempt to try to implant it permanently in his mind lest he forget it, but the moment felt like a dream. It was like trying to cup water between his hands and watching it trickle out of his grasp.

“He's your boyfriend, isn't he? That's what you're supposed to do, right?” asked Rey on the other end of the phone. Her mouth sounded full, and Finn could hear the crunch of what sounded like potato chips.

Finn sighed in exasperation. After the kiss under the stars, he and Poe had gone in to eat the spaghetti dinner Luke cooked for the three of them. Finn couldn't even recall how the food tasted; he'd been so giddy at the table, and his head was in a flurry. He’d been acutely aware of how close Poe was sitting to him at the table, and his senses were overloaded with nothing but _Poepoepoe_.

When dinner was over and the dishes were clean, Poe excused himself to shower, and Finn sought refuge in his bedroom to call Rey. His hands had trembled over the screen of his phone as he searched for her name in the contact list.

“Rey,” said Finn pointedly, “you know this is just a job.”

“Is it? Does it have to be?”

“…what do you mean?”

Chips crunched, teeth gnashed, and Rey smacked her lips. “You have a cute boyfriend, so let yourself kiss said cute boyfriend, Finn. Maybe this doesn’t have to be fake. Poe seems like a good guy. Give him a chance.”

“I would love to give him a chance, Rey.” Finn ran a hand through his hair and paced around his tiny bedroom. “But after Slip….”

Rey’s voice was soft and sympathetic. “Finn, not everyone is like Slip.”

“I know,” he mumbled, “but…Rey, I'm scared.”

“Be scared, Finn. That's okay. Just don't let your fear limit you. You are so much more than your past and your trauma.”

Finn stopped pacing around his bedroom and grinned. When he took a seat on the edge of his bed, he didn't even feel the need to fidget. Rey always had a knack for awakening his confidence. She made Finn believe he was a better person, and she made him strive to be a better version of himself. When Rey praised him, Finn believed her words—even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Rey, how did you know Jessika was the one?”

Rey laughed, “Honestly? I took her out to eat. I figured if she could deal with me at my worst in terms of table manners, then she was worth holding on to.”

Deep inside, Finn knew that love wasn't that simple, but Rey made it sound that way. Finn trusted her. He trusted her definition of love that claimed it was nothing more than simplicity. In terms of simplicity, Finn and Poe were anything but. Their relationship was complicated by contracts and Finn's past and whoever Poe was writing his songs for. Yet, out on the lawn with Poe, everything seemed simple. Maybe that would be enough.

“I deal with your table manners, and we aren't in love,” Finn pointed out.

“We aren't in love,” said Rey, “but I do love you, Finn. I love you as a lesbian loves a gay man.”

Finn chuckled, “The word you're looking for is ‘platonic.’”

“You're not a teacher yet, Finn. You can’t be correcting me when I talk.”

“That’s probably for the best. Otherwise, we'd be on the phone for days,” Finn said with laughter in his voice that effectively quashed whatever anxious quality his voice had earlier.

Finn wasn't in love with Rey either, but he loved her and her ability to calm him. Around Rey, Finn didn't dwell too often on the inadequacies he felt concerning his body. Being around Rey helped repel his negative thoughts. Sometimes they slipped through, but they never lingered long if she had any say about it.

Finn listened to Rey talk about the nightmare cars she and Jessika were dealing with at work, and she asked how his dad was doing. Eventually, their conversation petered out, and the two bade each other good night. No sooner had Finn hung up the phone, then Poe strolled into the room.

Promptly, Finn panicked. It had finally occurred to him that they would have to share his bed. He fidgeted on the bed, feeling an insatiable urge to crawl out of his skin.

In no time at all, Poe would discover what Finn was really like. Poe would lie close enough that he'd be able to map Finn's body in his mind and triangulate the location of his flaws. He would see Finn as the hulking and destructive presence that he truly was. The next morning, Poe would look at him with disgust, and Finn knew that would be worse than anything Slip had ever done to him.

“Everything okay, pal?”

Finn startled out of his reverie and faked a smile. “Fine.”

Poe knelt down in front of Finn. Carefully, and almost hesitantly, he placed his hands on Finn's knees. “Honesty, Finn,” he whispered, “That's all I want from you. D-do you regret what happened? Because we can pretend it didn't.”

“It's not that,” Finn mumbled. “I liked kissing you. I think I'd like to do it again.”

“Yeah?” Poe's mouth twisted into a goofy, lopsided grin.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Finn closed his eyes. His hands grabbed a fistful of sheets in a vain attempt to anchor himself to reality. “I just don't want to share a bed with you.”

Poe's hands disappeared from his knees, and Finn's chest clenched as though it was working overtime to contain his heart, which was beating rapidly inside him. To Finn, the rhythm of it sounded like jeering laughter. He should have prepared himself better for the rejection.

“Finn,” Poe breathed, placing his hands on Finn's cheeks. Startled, Finn opened his eyes only to be met with the other man's intense gaze. Poe's eyes were the color of a desert storm. “I don't care how slow we have to do things as long as you are comfortable. I can sleep on the floor. I promise you old age hasn't killed my back yet.”

A shaky laugh escaped Finn. “I-it's not you, y'know? It's me. I don't want to crush you or anything while we sleep.”

“Are you some sort of incubus?

“What?!”

“Your dad was telling me about spirits,” said Poe, “Incubus are spirits that descend and lay on another—usually to have sex with them. Reports say they're quite heavy. Feels like an oppressive weight on your chest, some report said.”

“Why were you and my dad talking abou— _nevermind_.” Finn shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't wait for the three of them to escape to the casino tomorrow; his dad clearly needed some time out of the house and away from his eccentric interest in the paranormal. “I'm not an incubus. Or a succubus. Or any other supernatural entity.”

“Finn.” Poe's joking manner dissipated, replaced by concern. “What's wrong? Why do you think you'll crush me?”

“Because look at me!” exclaimed Finn, squeezing his eyes shut to keep tears from falling. He was sick of crying and feeling weak. He was sick of being a vulnerable mess. He was sick of feeling broken and unwanted. “I'm disgusting. I'm a monster.”

Poe's hands were still on Finn's cheeks, and his thumbs gently swiped at the tears that escaped. “Finn, you are the furthest thing from disgusting. I'm pretty sure if you were a monster, your dad would have filmed a documentary about you and exposed it to the world. And if you're a monster, then I might be Guillermo del Toro.”

Finn squirmed. “Stop making me laugh.”

“What? So I can let you cry instead?” Poe rested his forehead against Finn's. “Finn, buddy, open your eyes.”

Finn obeyed. Tears still swam in his vision, making Poe slightly blurry, but even through his blotted eyesight, Finn could make out the warm hues of brown that were Poe's eyes.

“Finn,” said Poe, “you are not disgusting. You are not a monster. And you could never hurt me. You are fucking gorgeous, and I can sit here all night and wax poetic about you.”

Desperately, Finn wanted to say that he didn't feel disgusting when Poe touched him or kissed him. Finn wanted to tell Poe how he had felt like a star earlier. How his body had pulsated with energy and collapsed in on itself until he had become a luminous supernova, shining like a beacon in the night sky. Poe's lips on his made Finn feel like he was whole, and his body would not simply die out like a star. Instead, Finn felt like he could be reborn in a nebula of dead star residue. A resurrection.

When Poe's lips were on Finn's, he didn't just feel like a celestial object. He felt holy.

Even Victor's creation had likened itself to the creation of Adam that was detailed in Milton's _Paradise Lost_ ; even the monster had felt compelled to compare itself with something holy. Suddenly, it dawned on Finn that the Gothic novel wasn't just a story about monsters.

It was an allegory for the story of Genesis. Of creation. Of birth.

When Poe's lips were on Finn's, he felt holy in the same way he felt reborn. With Poe, Finn was able to shed his identity as a victim of trauma. He was able to be Finn. Just Finn. No longer was he the remnants of abuse. He was born anew. He had a future that was not solely defined by the label of “survivor.” His future was more than his trauma. _He_ was more than his trauma.

Finn wanted so badly to put those thoughts into words for Poe. Instead, he murmured pathetically to Poe about body dysmorphia.

“You may have trouble seeing it, but you are beautiful, Finn,” said Poe, getting off his knees in front of Finn and sitting beside him on the bed. “Your eyes…they're always so raw with emotion. And when you laugh, they practically glow and get all squinty, and it's the cutest thing in the world. Seeing you laugh, in general, is a gift. For someone so quiet and reserved, your whole body is animated when you laugh. You're always moving your hands or doubling over.”

Poe feathered kisses from Finn's temple to his brow to the bridge of his nose while he spoke, his voice adopting a husky quality to it. “You have this deep laugh that’s contagious, Finn. Your smile is toothy and adorable. And your lips…fuck, I've been dreaming of your lips since we met. Then, tonight, you kissed me, and it was better than any scenario I imagined. You've got these pouty lips that practically beg to be kissed.”

Poe's lips hovered over Finn's as he spoke.

Unconsciously, Finn licked his lips.

“You don't have to give me all these compliments.”

“They suit you.” Poe grinned and leaned forward to press his lips to Finn's.

Finn's mind was already a jumbled mess thanks to Poe's litany of worship to Finn. Now his mind was a wreck thanks to Poe's lips on his, and the act drew breathy sighs from Finn. He wished he could rival Poe's prowess with words and breathe poetry against the other man's lips, but the words always escaped him.

“You are so beautiful, Finn,” Poe murmured.

Finn's face was flushed. “I don't believe that, but you make me want to. Especially when you kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Poe smirked and leaned in again. “I don't need more encouragement, buddy.”

Once more his lips were on Finn's. The chaste nature of their previous kisses started to dissipate. Poe was sucking on Finn's bottom lip like it was an act of worship. Poe nipped and sucked and bit. He slipped his tongue in Finn's mouth, groaning lewdly as he did.

Finn's body thrummed like before. He reached out to grab Poe's hips in order to anchor himself to this moment while the other man explored his mouth. If Finn was a star in moments such as these, then Poe was an astronomer desperately mapping him. If Finn was a sacred relic, then Poe was a devout worshiper, seeking to unlock the secrets of his faith.

Breaking the kiss before he lost his confidence, Finn whispered against Poe's lips, “I want to show you something.”

Poe nodded, dazed.

While Finn stood up from his spot, Poe's eyes never left him. They were intense while watching Finn grab the hem of his shirt. With shaking hands, Finn peeled the shirt off his body.

Rey's voice was in his head, encouraging him to take a chance on Poe. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.

He trembled while he turned around to reveal to Poe his naked torso. His naked back. The jagged scar that ran from his shoulder to his spine. Evidence of what Slip had done to him. Finn could still feel the way the glass from the sliding door had punctured his skin. He could still hear the tinkling shatter of it when he was pushed through.

“Finn,” breathed Poe. Before Finn had the opportunity to shrink away from him, Poe was on his feet, tracing the scar with his fingers.

“I'm damaged,” Finn said lamely.

“No.” Poe pressed a kiss to the scar. “Not damaged. Scars are sexy, pal.”

Sighing, Finn let Poe pepper kisses along the length of the scar. Let Poe murmur against his skin and wrap his arms around Finn's waist. Finn let Poe hold him while he stood there with his vulnerabilities on full display. There was no rejection or disgust from Poe; rather, there was a tenderness in his actions. In the way he hugged Finn and kissed his shoulder and whispered, “You're so beautiful, Finn.”

Promptly, Finn started to cry again.

Because Poe thought he was beautiful. Because Poe looked at his flaws and still said he was beautiful. Finn cried because, for the first time, he believed it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their comments, feedback, and patience. I hadn't expected this chapter to take so long. Originally, the scene was shorter and the chapter was primarily about the casino night.
> 
> But as I wrote, I wanted to dedicate an entire chapter to this particular moment since it's such an important moment in Finn's journey.
> 
> For now, I have the story ending at Chapter 20. This is flexible and could change, but might not.


	14. Backseat Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden desire pooled through Finn to map every inch of Poe. Not just with his hands, but with his lips and tongue and teeth. Quickly, he quashed the urge. This was just them exploring each other and familiarizing themselves with the other’s body. Finn wasn't ready to be that bold. Not yet. Even if the situation was conjuring up those feelings he'd had in the casino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their comments and their patience between chapters. When there are long waits, I do try to put chapter previews up, which can be found on my tumblr: huttslut
> 
> Notes:
> 
> The title of the chapter is an All Time Low song.
> 
> The game craps is really confusing and I've never actually played it. For a quick reference, it is the game that Chandler and Monica played in Vegas in F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
> 
> Warning: I do not advocate gambling. It is actually pretty stupid and arcades are cooler.

The casino lights from Canto Bight twinkled around Finn like stars. The machines bathed the cavernous room in glaring shades of cobalt, vermilion, and gold; the bright patterns on the black carpet resembled suns. Between the maze of tables, slot machines, and patrons, the casino was difficult to navigate as they entered. Finn felt overwhelmed by the oppressive nature of the room. Without thinking, he grabbed Poe's hand.

“Places like these see a lot of people in transit,” his dad commented beside him, glancing around. “I bet the veil is thin here.”

Finn's face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

“Liminal spaces,” said Luke with a wave of his hand. “People are always passing through places like this. Why wouldn't that apply to spirits? Places like these help bridge our worlds.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Dad, there are no ghosts here.”

“There's something here,” muttered Luke, “Something that makes us lose our sense of time. Our grip on reality. Our hold on our finances.”

“I believe that's called a gambling addiction.”

“Laugh all you want, Finn,” Luke said pointedly, “But I guarantee you that an EMF detector would go wild in here.”

“We can come back later,” said Poe, standing beside Finn and gripping his hand tight, “Scan the place. Communicate with spirits.”

“Don't encourage him,” Finn murmured.

Luke chuckled and wandered off to one of the nearby penny slots, leaving Finn and Poe standing in the middle of the room. Finn felt lost. He'd never been in a casino before and had never even gambled. He only ever rolled the dice when it came to relationships, but he never won in those situations. He couldn't even begin to imagine a lifestyle that hinged on taking risks for the sake of entertainment. Some people took chances, but Finn took pills instead to cope with a world overflowing with chance.

Poe squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I don't know what to do,” admitted Finn in a low voice.

“C'mon, let's grab a drink first. I'll show you the ropes.”

Finn let Poe lead him over to the bar. He appreciated how patient and understanding Poe was all the time. Last night, Poe didn't press the issue of sleeping beside Finn. Instead, he threw some blankets on the floor and reached up to Finn to hold his hand. He didn't ask questions about the ugly scar on Finn’s back. Instead, he kissed it and whispered against the skin that Finn was perfect. That Finn was beautiful. He wiped the tears from Finn's face, but didn't pester him about why he was crying. Instead, he held Finn and waited for Finn to divulge what information he felt comfortable sharing. This was entirely new to Finn.

His past relationships had always been emotionally consuming. Finn gave endless support, but never received any. Poe was exuberantly supportive, and that was as much foreign territory for Finn as the casino was.

At the bar, they ordered cherry vodka mixed with Sprite. Finn slid onto one of the stools, and Poe leaned against the bar, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curled around them as though attempting to intertwine their bodies.

“The tables are probably the best,” said Poe after a moment of contemplation. “Blackjack is the easiest to understand, but not to win. In terms of winning, craps is the best. It's all about rolling dice. Seven and elevens will get us money.”

Finn nodded and listened to Poe break down the game for him, requesting another drink after downing his first. The alcohol made him giddy, and he felt anticipation claw at him while he listened to Poe.

“It's just dice,” finished Poe who stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and winked at Finn. “It's all in the wrist, buddy.”

Finn giggled, “Glad to know you've had more than enough practice then. Shame there's not a poster of David Bowie here to motivate you.”

“I don't need Bowie,” smirked Poe, leaning over to press a teasing kiss to Finn's lips. “I have you.”

Finn felt his lips tingle, and he hurriedly downed his second drink. The burn of the vodka helped placate his buzzing lips. He felt an airy confidence bubbling in his stomach, and he grabbed Poe's hand, allowing the other man to lead him to the craps table. Some tipsy part of his mind was thinking about Daft Punk's “Get Lucky,” which was playing over the speakers. Another part of his addled mind, which was feeling horny from the vodka and from being in close proximity to Poe, teased him that he could get lucky in other ways besides gambling.

“Vodka makes me horny,” Finn blurted out.

Poe stared at him. “You could've gotten something else, pal.”

Finn shrugged. “I want to be horny. With you.”

Poe continued to stare. “You _are_ a lightweight.”

Finn laughed, “Yeah, but my dick isn't.”

“That doesn't even make any sense!”

“ _You_ don't make any sense,” Finn managed despite his bout of laughter. His body shook, and he thought he could feel the vodka sloshing around in him. He tried to tell Poe. “It makes the _swoosh swoosh_ sound.”

Poe shushed Finn as they neared the table. He pressed a kiss to Finn's temple. “You sure you're okay? Don't need to lay down? I forgot you were a lightweight.”

“I can lay down on you.”

Chuckling fondly, Poe wrapped an arm around Finn's waist while they joined the small crowd that gathered around the table. “Maybe later, buddy.”

Different responses danced on Finn's tongue, but they melted away to leave only the sharp tang of alcohol. Poe’s body was warm beside him, and he wanted to bask in the comfort instead of chasing after the right words to say; besides, Finn was never able to find the right words.

Poe placed his bet on the table, and Finn tried his best to focus while remembering the rules Poe had explained at the bar. However, he couldn't stop thinking how nice Poe felt beside him and how Finn felt like he belonged against Poe's side.

“Our turn.” Poe accepted the dice and glanced over at Finn. “Kiss for good luck?”

Surging forward, Finn sloppily sealed his lips together with Poe's, and Poe broke away to roll the dice.

“Eleven!”

The crowd roared with delight as the pass line celebrated their win. High-fives were exchanged, and others clapped Finn enthusiastically on the back. He glowed. He liked this feeling. People were cheering for him. To them, Finn mattered. To them, Finn was a good luck charm and not an omen.

The game continued to unfold before them with Poe and the other patrons placing more bets. Dice rolled. There were wins and losses. Poe stole another good luck kiss from Finn and rolled another eleven, and Finn basked in the wave of excitement that waded through the atmosphere. One of the men at the table winked at Finn, and he smiled in return.

Taking risky bets had never been Finn's forte, but he stood beside Poe feeling like luck personified and drinking in the satisfaction. He wondered if he should take more risks in life. If he was beside Poe, he was bound to win.

Suddenly, the casino felt much larger to Finn, a cavernous room filled to the brim with opportunity, and Finn wanted to explore it. He muttered to Poe something about exploring uncharted territory to find the x that marked the bathroom and wandered away from the craps table.

While Poe continued playing craps, Finn took the opportunity to explore the casino, feeling like he was in a maze of addiction. No one paid him any mind while he threaded his way to the restrooms, their eyes too fixated on the slot machines they were feeding their money. The collective disassociation found in denizens of Canto Bight was eerie, even if it was understandable, and Finn decided he could see how his dad found the possibility of the supernatural within the casino.

As he finally stood at the sink, scrubbing at his hands under the faucet, Finn watched his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed from the alcohol, and beads of sweat along his forehead made his skin glisten under the bright lights. He tried to pin down what it was that Poe saw whenever he cupped Finn's face in his hands or when he whispered against his skin that Finn was beautiful.

He continued to stare into the mirror long after he finished washing his hands. Finn thought about Dracula and how vampires were cursed and could not gaze upon their reflections. For years, that resonated with him. Whenever he looked in a mirror, he would turn away in shame and remind himself that this was the fate of monsters. Looking into the mirror in the bathroom, Finn couldn't quite agree with his past logic. Because Poe thought he was beautiful.

He studied the rounded curve of his jaw and the growing hairs that gathered along his jawline to his chin. He glanced at the wide roundness of his nose. His hooded eyes. Raised cheekbones. The arched helix of his ear and the rounded dip to his attached lobule. All of these parts that came together on his face that Poe called beautiful.

Even though Finn doubted he would ever have the confidence when he was sober to voice his agreement aloud, in the Canto Bight bathroom, he could see what it was that Poe saw. He could see a beauty he shied away from for years. A beauty he might never acknowledge again.

A tipsy giggle fell from his lips, and he pulled himself away from the mirror, exiting the bathroom.

Finn wished he hadn't, though, when he confronted the scene before him: security guards leading Poe to the exit while a man had a hand clasped to his bleeding nose, shouting obscenities at Poe's retreating form.

* * *

 

Feeling much more sober, Finn had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he drove the Trans Am from the casino back to the homestead. He fixed the road stretching in front of him with an intense gaze, desperate for something to distract him from the memories of the casino. Of security guards pulling Poe away from the man he had punched. Of the blood dripping down the man's nose. Of Poe's eyes when he saw Finn—fearful and apologetic.

Silence engulfed the vehicle. Poe sat quietly in the backseat, head hanging like a scolded child, and Luke's futile attempts at casual conversation punctuated the quiet that had settled over them. Initially, the radio had been on, but Finn shut it off in frustration because it kept reminding Finn of the incident with songs like Pat Benatar's “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” or Rachel Platten's “Fight Song.”

Finn didn't want to think about the incident, which did nothing but create doubt in his mind. Was Poe different from Slip? Or had Finn already broken the man and turned him into monster? Was this an inevitable result of Finn allowing himself to take risks in life? He had rolled the dice so many times before. Finally, he thought he had rolled a seven or eleven, but he questioned that now.

“Have you ever read Kurt Vonnegut?” Luke asked loftily, breaking the silence and Finn's thought process.

“I've heard of him.”

“He wrote _Slaughterhouse-Five_ ,” explained Luke, “It was his attempt at reconciling with the post-traumatic stress from being a soldier and a prisoner of war in World War II.”

Finn frowned. “I thought it was fiction?”

“It is. But, Finn, sometimes it takes fiction to reveal truths to us. Vonnegut needed closure, and he needed to speak the truth. Fiction spins better truths than reality, sometimes. My point is, the book is about reconciling with the pain of the past, but it's also about looking forward. Time is not linear. We constantly cycle through our pasts and presents and futures. That’s what makes us human, but it doesn't define us.”

Finn's head spun. While the literary discussion was a welcome distraction, like most things these days, it made him think about Poe. “What _does_ define us?”

“Guess you'll have to read it.”

Finn groaned. Reconciling with the past. Facing the truth amidst fiction. He wondered, not for the first time, if his dad could read his mind _. We are all going forward. None of us are going back_.

Once more, silence fell across them like a veil and remained for the rest of the car ride. The porch lights of the homestead were welcoming when Finn finally maneuvered the Trans Am into the driveway and parked it. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and chalk the entire night up to a nightmare, but that wasn't a possibility. The threat of conversation hung in the air around them.

Luke cleared his throat and made vague excuses about checking on BB-8 and brewing tea before practically sprinting into the house and away from the brewing conflict.

Finn climbed out of the car, intent on following his dad's lead and escaping from the fallout, and was halfway to the house before he spun around to face Poe who had slipped out of the car and stood there, hands in his pockets.

“What was that?” asked Finn, surprised that the question came out as a shout. Poe opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not stop tumbling from Finn's lips. “Why? D-do you like punching people, Poe? I mean, this is why Paige hired me. And now this will be all over the Internet!”

Poe shrugged. “I can handle Paige and any bad press.”

“That's not the point!”

Poe sighed, removing one of his hands from his pockets and running it through his hair, “I know, but, Finn, this guy _deserved_ it.”

“Who are you to decide that?” spat Finn, remembering the way Slip would tell Finn the same. That Finn deserved what he got. That he loved Finn and was looking out for him.

“Finn, he was asking how much I paid you.”

Finn's heart stuttered in his chest. “H-how did he know?”

“He didn't.” Poe's eyes were wide and pleading. “Finn, he thought you were a whore because you were wandering around the casino.”

Finn's heart stumbled into his stomach. He wanted to give in to the part of him that yearned to forgive Poe, but he couldn't stop thinking about the blood on the man's face. “I don't need you punching people who insult me.”

“I didn't.” Poe's hand made another trip through his hair, mussing it even more. “I ignored it. But he kept going on to his buddy. Saying shit like he was going to follow you in the bathroom and get his dick properly sucked.”

“I could have handled it,” whispered Finn.

Poe took a step toward Finn, and Finn managed to quash his instinct to step back, trying to remind himself that Poe was not Slip. Poe would not hurt him. “I didn't want you to have to, though. Finn, he was being a predator. What would you have done if he'd gone in there?”

Finn shrugged. “I can fight.”

Poe arched a questioning brow. “Maybe you can, but you're a pacifist, Finn. Honestly, what would you have done?”

Finn deflated. “I would have wanted you to save me.”

In no time, Poe closed the distance between them, and Finn wrapped his arms around Poe, shaking despite the warmth of Poe's body. “And I would, Finn. I will save you and protect you every single time, but I didn't want it to come to that. Besides, if it hadn't been you, it could have been someone else he was leering over.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Finn's head. “You've been through so much, Finn. You deserve better.”

Finn pulled back to search Poe's eyes, looking for traces of deceit in them. But he found nothing. Poe was nothing but honest. He believed that Finn deserved better. He believed in Finn in all the ways that Slip never had.

Finn reached out to Poe, fisting at his jacket, and surged forward to seal their lips together. Immediately, Poe responded, his lips eager against Finn's. Just like that, the world dissolved around Finn and transformed into a dizzying whirlwind. With his head spinning, Finn tightened his grip on Poe's jacket and pulled the man closer. Smirking against his lips, Poe happily complied and crowded closer to Finn, pressing him up against the side of the car.

“If this is the response I get, maybe I should deck people more often?” Poe mumbled.

“Don't joke about that,” Finn murmured back, nipping Poe's bottom lip for emphasis.

Poe's breathing hitched, leaving Finn feeling bold enough to bite down gently and suck on his bottom lip. A breathy moan tumbled from his lips, and Finn chased that, slipping his tongue into Poe's mouth and drinking in the taste of cherry-flavored vodka and cigarettes.

Finn still felt overwhelmed and knew the kiss was clumsy and lacking finesse. But Poe let Finn take the lead and set the pace, responding fervently as Finn licked inside Poe's mouth and flicked his tongue, experimentally exploring. Trying to memorize how Poe reacted. What he liked. What elicited those breathy moans that Finn found intoxicating.

“You should moan in your songs,” Finn breathed into Poe's mouth. “The most beautiful song.”

“That's all for you, darling,” said Poe. “Only you.”

He pressed Finn up against the car properly, hands gripping his hips, and lunged forward to capture Finn's lips in his, leaving Finn with a knotted grip on Poe's jacket.

“What if your dad comes outside?”

Finn could hardly think as Poe's lips left his, and he began placing suckling kisses down his jawline. Poe's stubble was rough and scratchy along Finn's jaw, and it sent shivers through his body that made him pull Poe closer, basking in the prickly scrape along his skin. “He won't. It's not like I'm some horny teenager out past curfew."

Poe sucked at a spot just below Finn's jaw where his pulse beat furiously. “Can we pretend?”

“What do you--?”

Finn groaned in disappointment as Poe pulled away. He nudged Finn away from the car before throwing open the door to the backseat.

Poe smirked, eyes glinting mischievously, “Get in.”

Finn complied, sliding into the backseat, and Poe followed. After some clumsy wriggling around, they finally found a comfortable position with Finn on his back and Poe straddling him. As soon as they were situated, Poe's mouth was back on his and Finn eagerly drank in the kisses. One of his hands wound their way into Poe's hair, and he tugged lightly on the soft curls. The other hand rested on Poe's thigh, and Finn had to resist the temptation to graze his hand along the inward seam of his jeans.

A deep throaty groan issued from Poe. “Take it easy, pal. I just want to make out with you. We don't need to do anything else. In fact, we probably shouldn't, since we've both had some drinks. I'm perfectly okay to wait for when you're ready. _If_ you're ever ready. I don't care.”

Finn feathered kisses along Poe's jaw, whispering against his skin. “I know. A-and there is no ‘if.’ I want to do things with you…just not yet.” He bit at Poe's neck like he was leaving behind a promise before pulling away and staring up at the man on top of him. “I want to get used to you. And me. I want to get used to my body.”

While Finn practiced daily with familiarizing himself with his body in the shower, he knew this was different. This would allow Poe to see and feel his body. Yet, Finn still wanted to try. The vodka in his system lent him courage (and the urge to feel Poe's lips and hands on his skin), so he fumbled with the hem of his shirt before managing to pull his shirt off—with much-needed help from Poe.

Even though it was dark, Finn still flushed as he wondered what Poe thought of him. Did he still think he was beautiful the way he had when he kissed Finn's scar?

“I can't let you be the only one stripping,” Poe said and fidgeted atop of Finn as he peeled his shirt off.

The light from the porch gave Finn a limited view of Poe, but he had seen the other man shirtless multiple times. He could recall his defined collarbones, the muscles in his abdomen, and the dark curls beneath his navel that disappeared under his waistband. To dispel his intrusive alcohol-fueled desires, Finn gripped Poe's thigh, welcoming the distracting friction of the denim beneath his fingertips.

Poe leaned down to capture Finn's lips in his again, and his body was pressed flush against Finn who reeled at the exciting warmth of the skin-on-skin contact. Poe's hands fluttered up Finn's sides until he grasped his shoulders. Feeling unsure, Finn tried to mimic Poe, and he reached out to grip Poe's hips, running his thumb over the hipbone and marveling at the heat radiating from his skin.

A sudden desire pooled through Finn to map every inch of Poe. Not just with his hands, but with his lips and tongue and teeth. Quickly, he quashed the urge. This was just them exploring each other and familiarizing themselves with the other’s body. Finn wasn't ready to be that bold. Not yet. Even if the situation was conjuring up those feelings he'd had in the casino.

Finn’s hands traversed Poe's body, fingers exploring every dip of his skin and every jut of his bones. His nails scraped at Poe's back, and Poe’s teeth closed around Finn's bottom lip in response. Finn eased up the pressure of his nails on Poe's back and instead traced lazy patterns along his skin, pressing down slightly to feel the way the muscles in Poe's back contracted and relaxed under his ministrations. His hands seemed to move of their own accord, and they slid down to grab lower while Poe's tongue slipped into Finn's mouth. One of his hands disappeared from Finn's shoulder, moving to grip Finn's jaw instead.

He pulled back and laid his forehead on Finn's. Finn's eyes flickered open, and he grinned up at Poe. They were both trying to calm their rapid breathing, their locked eyes reminding each other that what was between them was new and fragile. They had to be cautious and slow. Finn needed Poe to be familiar with his body just as he needed himself to be comfortable with that kind of interaction. Still, it was hard to think about progressing slowly with a shirtless Poe Dameron straddling him and Finn's hands cupping his ass.

“God, I love your ass,” Finn admitted in a breathy whisper, squeezing for emphasis.

“I'm flattered,” said Poe softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Finn's forehead, “but I'm not God.”

Finn giggled, “If you ever decided to head a religion, just know I would join.”

“If I headed a religion, it would be dedicated to worshipping you.”

Finn squirmed under Poe. “Shut up.”

Poe laughed, eyes crinkling in delight, and he pressed a quick kiss to Finn's lips. “You are so gorgeous, Finn. Thank you for letting me see you like this.”

Kissing Finn one last time, Poe leaned back and began feeling around the backseat, searching for their shirts.

Part of Finn wanted to protest, wanted to keep kissing Poe. Wanted Poe’s mouth back on his as the other man made Finn tremble with a keening desire. However, he knew he wasn't ready for that. He had been surprised at his own bravery in kissing Poe after the other man had given him a star.

So instead of asking Poe to stay, Finn asked, “Would you sleep next to me tonight?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed some finnpoe makeouts. I'm not the best at writing scenes like that, so I apologize.
> 
> Also, if you like this, feel free to read my other fics:
> 
> The Anatomy of a Rescue- a one-shot about the Resistance on Hoth
> 
> Shatterpoint- a WIP where Finn is a Jedi and Poe is a senator
> 
> The Measure of Things- a new WIP that will be a rewrite of The Last Jedi / a fix-it fic


	15. A Pillar of Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dr. Kalonia,” Finn said, clearing his throat, “it's Finn. Do you have a moment?”
> 
> “Yes, Finn. Is everything all right? Are you okay?”
> 
> “Fine,” answered Finn. “Actually, more than fine. I think I've made some progress. I—uh, shared a bed with Poe. I'm letting myself be more vulnerable around him. I think—well, being with him has made me forget to hate myself—or my body. At least, I think I hate it a little less. Dr. Kalonia, he said I was beautiful. And when he said it, I believed it. I wanted to believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I was swamped with work and then I got so sick for a week and had to fight that while still working, so it was an adventure.
> 
> Heads up: the italicized section of this chapter is directly from the first chapter of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. I do not own it or claim to own his work.

When Finn and Poe awoke the next morning to leave, the sun had already crested the horizon, casting a pale orange glow across the vast expanse of desert. Shadows from trees and plants seemed to dance as the sun made its ascent. Yawning furiously, having not slept well the night before, Finn helped Poe pack their bags up into the Trans Am while BB-8 pattered along at the ankles, yipping in protest; the corgi had become attached to Luke.

“I think I'll get a dog,” Luke mused, crouching down to scratch BB-8's ears and murmuring fondly to the dog whom he had become attached to as well.

“A dog would be nice company,” said Finn with a smile, “Might keep you sane.”

Luke laughed, “Sanity is subjective.”

“Well, I still think a dog would be good for you.”

Luke gave the dog one last pat and stood up to embrace Finn, pulling him close. Finn held him tightly, almost regretting their departure. The weekend at his father’s had been therapeutic and calming. Finn finally felt as though most of the stress that had weighed upon him had been washed away, and he had a suspicion that the stress would return like a tidal wave when they returned to Los Angeles.

“Keep in touch,” Luke told him, “And remember to breathe, Finn. You're doing fine. You're getting better, and I couldn't be more proud of you.”

While Poe was bidding his dad farewell, Finn climbed into the passenger seat. When he'd admitted that he hadn't slept well, Poe offered to drive, and Finn had given in. 

After their stolen moments in the backseat of the car, they had climbed into Finn's bed to sleep. Upon Finn's request, they slept with their backs to each other. Finn almost regretted it because he swore he had fallen in love with Poe Dameron as they laid down on the bed, facing away from each other. Because Poe hadn't pushed the issue; he accepted Finn's boundaries, and he didn't even ask why Finn wanted the boundary. Poe accepted it without question, and Finn loved him for it.

Even with Poe's compliance, Finn had still lain awake at night, fretting over sharing the bed with Poe. Worrying about whether he would roll over at night and crush Poe. Whether Poe would roll over and hold Finn and feel all of his body's imperfections.

Nothing happened, though. Finn finally fell asleep, and when he awoke, he and Poe were both still lying with their backs to each other.

“Are you okay?” Poe had asked him upon waking, rolling over in order to drop a kiss to Finn's shoulder.

“Yeah,” Finn admitted in a shaky voice. “I am.”

Poe arched a brow. “You didn't sleep?”

Finn looked over his shoulder and gave the man a sheepish smile. “I was worrying all night.”

“About what?”

“…crushing you.”

“Please let me know if you are actually the giant boulder from _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ in disguise because I'd really rather not be catfished by a boulder again.”

Finn snorted, “Has this been an ongoing issue for you?”

“You'd be surprised,” teased Poe.

And then the two of them were laughing. And Poe was peppering kisses on Finn's face and Finn was pulling Poe closer to him. And all his worries from the night before dissipated. He was Finn, and Poe was Poe, and this was how it was supposed to be. This felt right.

Finn regretted being anxious about sleeping beside Poe. He regretted how tired he felt, but he still offered Poe a cheery smile when he folded himself into the car and began fiddling with his phone's GPS. 

“Gonna take a nap?” asked Poe, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his face.

“Nah, I think I'm gonna read,” Finn said and held up one of the two books he had borrowed from his dad.  
One was an old and tarnished copy of Milton's _Paradise Lost_ , which had a worn spine and yellowed pages. The other was slightly newer, but just as heavily used: Kurt Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse-Five_.

“Excellent. Why don't you keep me company and read it to me?”

Finn almost dropped the books. “What?”

“Yeah.” Poe nodded enthusiastically. “You said you want to be a teacher, and you'll have to read to students. Read to me. You're always listening to me; it's my turn.”

Finn agreed, and in no time, the car was already merging onto the highway with BB-8 asleep in Finn's lap and Finn reading _Slaughterhouse-Five_ to Poe:

_“I looked through the Gideon Bible in my motel room for tales of great destruction._ The sun was risen upon the Earth when Lot entered into Zo-ar, _I read._ Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven; and He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.

_So it goes._

_Those were vile people in both those cities, as is well known. The world was better off without them._

_And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human._

_So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes._

_People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore._

_I_ _'ve finished my war book now. The next one I write is going to be fun._

_This one is a failure, and had to be, since it was written by a pillar of salt. It begins like this:_

Listen:

Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.

It ends like this:

Poo-tee-weet?”

With the first chapter finished, Poe turned on the radio, so Finn could sit in silence and rest his voice, which had become raspy. The car felt much more lively with the radio on, and Poe's singing accompanying the music they were listening to. Finn was thankful for the change in the mood because he had realized, while reading, how cynical Vonnegut was in his prose.

About how anti-war novels were as useful as anti-glacier books; both were inevitable in life. About how he struggled to write about the bombing of Dresden because it was a massacre, and there was never anything intelligent to say about a massacre. That was why, according to Vonnegut, it is silent after massacres, since there is nothing intelligent to say about them—except for the birds who say, ‘ _Poo-tee-weet.’_

Finn thought about his stay in the hospital after Slip pushed him through the window. About how the next morning, the birds had chirped and broken the silence in his hospital room. Silence. Because, according to Vonnegut, there had been nothing intelligent to say about what Slip had done to him.

According to Vonnegut, Finn was nothing more than a pillar of salt, being punished for looking back. Finn wondered if that was why his recovery was slow. Was he fixating too much on the past? Was keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him the only way to move forward?

The questions swimming in his head made him realize how right his dad had been to recommend the book to him. He wondered if the book would give him insight into coping with his own past. Or was writing his own book Vonnegut’s recommendation? Would Finn even have anything intelligent to say about his own grievances?

As the music on the radio faded into a commercial, Poe looked over at Finn and said softly, “It's okay, y'know?”

“What?”

“Looking back,” said Poe. “The book said Lot's wife looked back, and it was such a human thing to do. It's okay to look back, Finn. You're human.”

* * *

 

A few hours later, they pulled into the driveway of the hilltop villa. Paige was already waiting in the driveway; while she intercepted Poe, Finn carried their bags inside and BB-8 padded along at his heels. Finn had spent the rest of the ride home reading more chapters to Poe and thinking back to their night spent in bed together.

Nothing bad had happened. All of that worrying, and Poe had woken up beside Finn, laughing with him and kissing him. All of that worrying, and Poe still wanted to be with Finn. Nothing bad had happened. Maybe next time, Finn would let Poe hold him while they slept.

Thrumming with a strange anticipation at the thought, Finn pulled out his phone and called the number that had been given to him.

“Hello?” Dr. Kalonia's warm and patient voice greeted.

“Dr. Kalonia,” Finn said, clearing his throat, “it's Finn. Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, Finn. Is everything all right? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” answered Finn. “Actually, more than fine. I think I've made some progress. I—uh, shared a bed with Poe. I'm letting myself be more vulnerable around him. I think—well, being with him has made me forget to hate myself—or my body. At least, I think I hate it a little less. Dr. Kalonia, he said I was beautiful. And when he said it, I believed it. I _wanted_ to believe it.”

“Oh, Finn, I'm so proud of you,” she said, “You're making progress. And I’m glad. I really am, but as your therapist, I do have to ask: what happens if this doesn't work out?”

“What?”

“With Poe.” She sounded timid. “I'm proud that you feel beautiful around him, but I don't want you thinking that your self-worth is contingent on being with Poe. I want you to know that you can be beautiful even if you aren't with him.”

Finn frowned. “I never thought about that,” he admitted, “What I would be without him. I mean, I've thought of ending this, but then this weekend happened. He makes me feel safe and beautiful, and now I don't want to leave. I want to keep trying this thing we have.”

“That's what I want for you, Finn,” she assured him. “But I still want you to think about your self-worth. About why there is nothing wrong with your body. I want you to find an answer before we see each other again. I want you to give me reasons that you shouldn't hate yourself or your body, and I want the reasons to come from you. Not from what Poe thinks of you.”

“I'll try my best.”

* * *

 

While Poe was still finalizing important decisions with Paige, hours later and the two had moved to the table on the patio in the backyard, Finn sat on the couch, trying to read more of _Slaughterhouse-Five._ Unfortunately, he was having trouble focusing. Part of him wanted to call Rey and see what she thought about Dr. Kalonia's suggestion, but Finn didn't want to bother her. He burdened her enough with his problems. Besides, Rey would tell him nothing was wrong with him and that there was no reason for him to hate himself, and Finn knew that was a lie. He wouldn't be seeing a therapist if there was nothing wrong with him.

_Sanity is subjective_ , his father's voice echoed in his head.

“This isn't about my sanity,” muttered Finn to himself, “It's about me. And what's wrong with me.”

Finn broke things. He ruined them. He was like a plague, and the contagion from him spread until it affected those he loved. And it turned them ugly. Except…Poe seemed immune to this plague. Because he called Finn beautiful. He said it earnestly and honestly. He treated Finn's body like an ancient relic. He regarded Finn the same way Indiana Jones had regarded the Ark of the Covenant: with a mixture of awe, respect, and reverence.

“Talking to yourself? And about your sanity, no less?”

Finn jumped at Poe's teasing voice. The other man joined him on the couch, and Finn finally abandoned the book, discarding it on the coffee table.

“Is Paige gone?”

“Yeah,” Poe said. The light in his eyes, that had been present all weekend, was gone and replaced by a dull tiredness. “We had to make some final arrangements for the album wrap-up party. The label keeps wanting to release the deluxe edition of the album the same day, but I told them I didn't want to do it that way.”

“Why not?”

“I just need some extra time to find inspiration for the songs,” said Poe with a shrug. “I want the bonus tracks to be different, y'know? Not the same story the album is telling. Something that wraps it up.”

“Like an epilogue?”

Poe grinned. “Yes! Exactly like that!”

“You’ll figure it out,” Finn assured him. “You're an amazing writer, Poe.”

The light seemed to flicker back in Poe's eyes; without preamble, Poe straddled Finn, cupping Finn's face and pressing his lips against Finn's.

“I want you there with me,” Poe whispered, “I want you to be my date for the wrap-up party.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, Poe. I'll be there.”

Beaming, Poe kissed him again. And again. And soon Finn was sighing into his mouth, all the tension leaving his body, as he allowed Poe's lips to leave his and nip along his jawline. 

For once, Finn wasn't looking back. He was keenly aware of the present. Of Poe's weight on him. Of Poe's lips on his skin. Of the light, almost torturous, bites Poe left behind.

Finn was keenly aware that he wanted this. Had never wanted something—or someone—more. Finn didn't want to be turned into a pillar of salt. He wanted this. He wanted Poe and the feelings of being beautiful that came from being with Poe.

Finn always crashed into love.

This time, he let himself crash into Poe Dameron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the comments and patience.
> 
> I will definitely update the next chapter quicker, but know that the next chapter is going to be rated 'M' so it might take me some time to write it.


	16. "This."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As turbulent waves cascaded throughout Finn, he reached down to grab a handful of Poe's hair, looking for something to anchor him to the moment. When they eventually fell apart, Finn wanted to remember this. The warmth of Poe against him. The feel of his body atop him. The taste of his lips. He wanted to remember everything."

The crash was like a riptide. It crawled over his body and cascaded down with a roar, sweeping him away in the current.

Finn felt a light buoyant pressure budding inside his chest as though his body had become a sea of roiling waves. The churning tides in his chest ebbed and flowed in synchronicity with every press of Poe's lips to his skin. Vaguely, he wondered if this was what the Salton Sea had been like before it was plagued by decay. He wondered if all things that died had once lived so fiercely. Was death an abrupt end to passion? Or were such moments only an imminent precursor to death?

Poe’s breath was hot and wet against the skin at the crux of his neck. Sighing, Finn's head fell back against the couch cushions, and he pushed away his intrusive thoughts. He wanted to focus on this and only this. Poe's lips traversed across his skin in a languid journey as though the other man was taking his time to memorize everything about Finn.

At the thought, Finn involuntarily squirmed. He wanted this—this storm that was raging inside of him, this passion—but he did not want to suffer through the inevitable end. Everything he touched was doomed to die. That was his nature. Even the stories he read were devoid of happy endings. What monster was ever happy?

Finn gasped softly, mind going blank, when Poe rolled his hips against his, and the storm turned into a hurricane with fierce winds buffeting the waves along. He was tired of fighting it. He surrendered. He would drown or he would float, but it was better than fighting. Finn’s body ached from the effort.

“What do you want, Finn?” murmured Poe.

Finn almost froze. No one had ever asked him that. “This,” he admitted finally, at a loss for the words. “Just this.”

Poe looked up at Finn, his eyes reminding Finn of the beach and the gleam of the sun over their swaying bodies that afternoon, and his voice was a promise. “It's yours.”

Slowly, almost teasingly, Poe peeled off his shirt, and Finn hand's were drawn to the vast expanse of skin that made up his torso. He tried to calm the greedy nature of the storm as he touched Poe. Finn broke things, and he did not want to break this. Intently, Poe watched the way Finn's fingers danced along his ribcage and across the v of his hips, fingers dipping experimentally below his waistband where the hairs below his navel grew darker.

An impatient groan escaped from Poe, and he quickly maneuvered their bodies on the couch before prodding Finn down onto his back, slotting their bodies together.

“Your turn.” 

Finn's heart drummed frantically as Poe began inching Finn’s shirt up his body. He shut his eyes, steeling himself for Poe's disappointment or disgust. 

It never came. Instead, Poe's mouth was warm and his breath hot against Finn's chest. It was the heat of the sun, churning a tropical storm. The heat was relentless. Agonizing. Poe nipped and licked his way down Finn's torso, and Finn felt he was burning. The buoyant feeling traveled from his chest to make its home in his stomach. He shivered when Poe's mouth found his hipbone with his lips and teeth.

Finn's hips jerked up, and Poe's mouth was a smirk against him.

As turbulent waves cascaded throughout Finn, he reached down to grab a handful of Poe's hair, looking for something to anchor him to the moment. When they eventually fell apart, Finn wanted to remember this. The warmth of Poe against him. The feel of his body atop him. The taste of his lips. He wanted to remember everything.

With a sense of renewed urgency, Finn tugged at Poe's hair until the other man received the message. Abandoning Finn's hip, Poe followed Finn's urging until their lips were together again. There was hunger and desperation and promises. And Finn drank it all in eagerly.

_Promise me this won’t be the end of us._

_Promise me this won't be the end._

_Promise me this. Just this._

His hips stuttered upward in a desperate plea to Poe. He wanted this. His body ached with pent-up desire that had been unleashed with the storm. Poe's hand was between them, confident and nothing but finesse, as he undid buttons and zippers and grabbed Finn through his boxers.

Poe swallowed the moans that tumbled from Finn even as he tried to keep some semblance of restraint.

“Fuck.” Poe's voice was a gravelly groan.

The sound went straight to Finn's dick, and he jerked his hips in a sloppy rhythm, trying to match the pace of Poe's hand. 

Without thinking, a plea escaped. “More.”

Wasting no time, they helped each other inch their pants and boxers down their thighs. And when Poe rolled his hips against Finn, he cried out. The pressure. The friction. The heat. 

Poe's teeth sunk into Finn's collarbone, and he rutted against him. All the finesse from earlier was gone replaced by a desire for more. Trying to pull him closer, Finn wrapped one of his legs around Poe's waist, urging him not to stop.

Tension built, knotting itself through Finn's muscles until all his senses felt amplified. He could taste the salty sweat beading Poe's skin. Could smell the sweat and a staleness that was Poe's cologne. Could hear his panting breaths like they were a song for Finn and Finn alone. Atop him, Poe's body was flushed and warm and thrumming with a wild energy that mimicked the pulsating waves crashing through Finn.

They were a hurricane spiraling across the coast. A rapidly rotating cyclone. A typhoon of limbs and lips and moans.

Finn's fingers scratched frantically at Poe's back, riding out the storm, and crying out Poe's name with a tone of surrender.

* * *

 

Sweaty and spent, Poe laid on top of Finn, nuzzling his head into his neck and idly kissing the tendrils of perspiration that rolled down his skin.

“I'm going to write a song about this,” he said.

Finn rolled his eyes, his hand buried in the damp curls on Poe's head. “You always say that.”

“Because I will,” insisted Poe, propping himself up to stare at Finn. “Your body is art. Those desperate noises you try to hold back, but they slip out anyways. How your skin tastes when it's feverish and flushed and salty. The way your stomach tightens when you come.”

“What a romantic song,” Finn drawled. While the thought made him smile, he doubted Poe would write a song about him.

Poe laughed and pressed his lips to Finn's. “It's the way I feel about you. Of course it will be romantic.”

In between smiles and laughs, they exchanged lazy kisses. Finn was content with remaining on the couch for eternity. Until the two of them turned to dust and pillars of salt. Or so it goes….

“I need to shower,” Poe said, propping himself up and making a face as if just realizing how sticky and sweaty they were. A musky odor that Finn associated with sex clung to their bodies. Poe raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Want to join?”

Shaking his head, Finn hoped Poe didn't see the panic that immediately flitted across his face. Despite what had just happened, Finn didn't know if he was ready to shower with Poe. It felt more intimate. At least while they were enveloped in passion, their minds had both been too foggy to register details. Finn did not think he could bare his entire body to Poe. Allow Poe to see and judge his imperfections.

“I'm not ready for that,” he admitted in a whisper.

Poe smiled and pressed a kiss to Finn's nose before clambering off of him. “Whatever you're comfortable with, Finn. But just so you know, you've nothing to be ashamed of. Not around me.”

“I'm not ashamed,” admitted Finn, “I'm scared.”

“Well, you needn't be afraid of anything with me, either.”

Just like that, he had disappeared, up the winding staircase. Finn felt momentarily stunned. Poe hadn't tried to pressure him or guilt him. He simply accepted what Finn wanted. 

Once Finn had hiked his pants back up and found his shirt, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table, noticed the several missed calls, and called back Rey.

“I have to find out about my best friend coming back from his romantic weekend from the press?” Her voice was playfully accusing.

“Sorry, Rey, we were— _I_ was just busy.”

“Wait.” Rey started laughing. “Finn, are you seriously calling me right after sex?”

Finn blushed, glad Rey couldn't see him. “It wasn't sex! I mean, _nothing_ was happening. I'm just calling you back.”

Rey was still laughing. “Jess owes me money.”

“You seriously make bets about my sex life?” 

“What else are we poor plebs to do, now that our best friend is famous?” teased Rey.

Finn sighed, “You know I would never forget you two. Besides, I'm not famous. Poe is. I'm just a temporary extension of that.”

“You have such a romantic way of phrasing things, Finn,” Rey snorted, “No wonder Jess bet that you'd never find the courage to fuck Poe.”

“Rey, what do I do?”

“I'm a lesbian, Finn, but I'm sure if you do enough poking around down there, the two of you can figure it out.”

“Not that!” groaned Finn in frustration. “Poe wants me to shower with him.”

“Again,” said Rey, “I'm a lesbian, Finn. I don't see the appeal. If _you_ do, then get in the shower.”

Finn sighed. Sometimes, what was an obvious problem for him was nothing more than an afterthought for Rey. Slowly, he relayed to her his conversation with Dr. Kalonia. About how he felt beautiful. About how she was both proud and worried. About how his self-worth shouldn't be contingent on Poe's feelings for him.

When he finished, Rey took a deep breath. “Sometimes, Finn, things aren't that complex. Sometimes, life is simple. Not all decisions require mentally writing a six-page analysis. Sometimes, it's just as simple as answering the question, ‘What do you want?’”

“Rey,” Finn whispered, “I wanted Slip, and look what happened.”

“Poe isn't Slip, though,” Rey pointed out. “And the question here isn't whether this decision is right for you based on previous experiences. The question is about what you want. Now, Finn, do you want to be naked and wet with Poe or not?”

Finn grinned. “Thanks, Rey.”

“I'll be charging you for romantic advice soon,” teased Rey.

“So…what did you bet?”

“What?”

“You said that Jess didn't think I'd ever have the courage to be with Poe. What did you say?”

“I told her that you are the strongest person I know. Of course you'd find the courage.” Finn smiled because Rey was nothing but blunt and honest.

After he bade goodbye to Rey, he sat on the couch, practicing his breathing exercises and trying to sort through his thoughts. Could it be as simple as Rey made it out to be? Finn had always thought things through with calculated detail, but that had only added to the stress of the decision. Rey was with Jess, and everything between them seemed simple. Could it be that way between him and Poe?

Pushing away the sludge of intrusive thoughts that lurked in his swampy mind, Finn sat up and ascended the stairs with purpose, focusing on his breathing. When doubts bubbled up, Finn firmly reminded himself to answer the question Rey had posed to him. What did he want?

_This_ , he reminded himself. _Just this_.

Without any reservations, Finn found himself stripping out of his clothes and slipping under the hot spray of the shower with Poe. He slid an arm around the other man's waist, and Poe made a pleased humming noise before craning his neck to press a kiss to Finn's jaw.

“Nothing to fear,” Poe reminded him softly.

Finn tightened his arm around Poe's waist, pulling their bodies flush. He tried to explain it to Poe, but he always tripped over his own words. “I want—”

Poe turned around in his grip, looking at Finn with those promises from before burnished in his eyes. “It's yours, Finn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait. Life and money problems happened. Then, I had trouble figuring this chapter out. I have never written smut and was not sure if I would be comfortable with writing anything graphic. But I also did not want to skip over what would clearly be an important moment for Finn.
> 
> So I went with a happy medium and I hope it works. Let me know what you thought-- if anyone is still even reading this.
> 
> As always, feel free to find me on tumblr: huttslut


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